


Missing Details

by After88



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Nightmares, Slow Burn, if you love a character put them through hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12307737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/After88/pseuds/After88
Summary: When Hawke began leaning on Varric emotionally, he realised he had feelings for her.Well, shit.





	1. Chapter 1

Hawke lay in her bed, eyes wide, breath quick, covering her mouth to stop her sobs becoming audible.

_Shit. Another night terror... How many has that been now?_

With a stifled groan, she hauled herself up and leaned back against the grimy wall. Rubbing her bloodshot eyes, she peered around the dark room and noticed that the lavender candle had long since burned out, leaving the room enshrined in complete darkness, the sour smell of the house once again prevailing. Bethany's light snores rumbled under her, assuring her that she _was_ awake, some sort of a sense of relief in her muddled brain.

The nightmare seemed like a distant memory now, although the thought of it was etched onto her brain and had been for months now. She couldn't close her eyes for a moment without seeing Carver's petrified face, splattered in blood, defenceless as the ogre picked him up and-

She shook her head, trying to rid the image from her mind. She'd lived that moment once, she didn't need to relive it every time she managed to fall asleep.

 _Maybe my brain is trying to tell me something?_ She thought to herself, running a shaky hand through her hair. _Mother's right, isn't she? Carver's death_ _ **is**_ _my fault... I could have stopped him, maybe strategeized, pulled him back... anything..._

Hawke shook her head more viciously this time and shuddered.

_Well, I think that's enough sleep for tonight._

The ladder of the makeshift bunk groaned as she climbed down, making it damn near impossible to be silent, but nobody seemed to wake. There was no point staying here, wallowing in pathetic self pity and perfectly justified self loathing. She found what she needed, fumbled her armour together, slipped on her boots, and shoved on her knives. Not that she would go anywhere without them. Quiet as a mouse (quieter, in fact, than the ones that also called Gamlen's hovel a home), she crept out of the house and made her way to the Hanged Man.

The sun was only just rising behind a cloudy sky, the city still shrouded in darkness. The distant call of the seagulls screeched overhead as she made her way through the streets, tiptoeing around the thugs and bandits she passed. She knew how to use the deep shadows to her advantage, praying not to meet any trouble. She just couldn't be arsed fighting right now, even if there _would_ be coin involved.

  
  


“I hope you've not come here for a drink.” Corff moaned as Hawke approached, wiping down the filthy bar with an equally filthy rag.  
“I ehh.. I'm just waiting for breakfast service.” Hawke shrugged, attempting to snap out of her sleepwalk.  
“We're closing for the night, Hawke. Everyone's getting chucked out in a few minutes.” He looked up, seeing Hawke's worn and wary face, his own softening. “But eh... I guess I can trust you, what with stopping those bar fights and all. You'll have to hand over some coin for a drink though.”

Hawke reluctantly handed over a few bits for a weak, warm tankard and looked for a place to sit. Weaving in and out through the thin crowds of drunks - most of which were sleeping at the tables - she managed to find a suitable table in the darkest available corner. With a heavy sigh of relief, she plonked herself and her drink down, getting somewhat comfy.

If only she could check in on Varric... but no. He wouldn't appreciate being woken at this time. Plus, they'd only seen each other a few hours ago. Not that she was counting or anything. He didn't need to hear about _her_ problems, especially when he had so many of his own. And between the Merchants Guild, the expedition planning, the odd jobs she dragged him through on almost a daily basis and the drinking they'd do afterwards, the poor man probably never had a spare moment to himself.

She drummed her fingers on the table, brows furrowing in thought. This would be a long wait and she knew it. She took a few sips just to quench her dry throat - thankful that she'd almost gotten used to the drink here - and sat, taking in the lulled atmosphere. It was almost pleasant at this time of day, dwindled crowds, hushed voices, occasional snores... Slowly, slowly, bit by bit her eyes began to open a little less with each blink and her head grew heavy, gently nodding a strange, slow rhythm.

Wait, had it always been this dark in here?

“Marian.”

Why was someone saying her name? And where was she? She looked around to see an unfamiliar barren wasteland, but then she realised; she recognised that voice!

“C-Carver?” Hawke gasped, turning to see her brother in front of her, “You're okay!? I thought something happened to you!”

Happy didn't even begin to describe how she felt as she rushed towards him, arms extended and face beaming, but he outright ignored the invitation and instead stood stoic and apathetic, pushing her away. Over the years she'd grown to despise his clingy nature, even though he tried to hide it, but this was cause for celebration! What the heck was going on?

“Why, Marian?” He huffed, using his inch of extra height to look down his nose at her.  
“W-what?”  
“Why did you let me die?”

The memory returned, every last ounce of blood. She could never escape it. Carver's beaten, bloody face stared back at her. Deathly. Motionless.

Dead.

“It's _your_ fault.” He spat, shoving her backwards almost onto the ground. “ _You_ bullied me into fighting that ogre and you didn't even try to stop me! All those times you told me to prove myself, to do my part to protect our family. If you were a better sister then I'd still be here!”  
“I tried, Carver! I really did!” She cried, unsure if she even believed it herself.  
“You didn't, Marian. You're just a piece of shit.” He sneered, walking closer to her, “ _You_ wanted to be the hero of this family. You didn't want anyone to take _your_ place!”

Carver came closer still, pushing and pushing her, harder each time until she fell to the ground. She hauled herself to her feet and tried to reason with him, to bargain with him. Shadows appeared around her, a wall that stopped her from walking backwards. Franticly, she spun around, trying to make sense of the shadows, dark and cold. Somehow, she managed to make out Bethany's face, withdrawn and uncaring.

“Bethany, I-”  
“Just fuck off, idiot.” Cried Bethany, shoving her to the ground. “Why couldn't _you_ have died instead of him?”  
“Please...” She begged, gasping for breath, “I didn't mean for him to die!”

More faces appeared from the darkness. Mother, Gamlen, what little friends she had back in Lothering. She tried to scream, but no-one bothered to listen. No-one cared. She fumbled to her hands and knees and tried to crawl away, but her mother grabbed her collar and yanked her back, hitting the hard ground with a thud.

“I wish you were never born.” She screamed, kicking her back down when she tried to get back again.  
“You don't deserve the rags you sleep on.” Gamlen sneered, stomping on her hand, a loud crunch underfoot.  
“Piece of shit.” Spat Carver, pulling her hair.  
“Hawke.” A soft, distant voice called.

They were right, she deserved this. She'd let Carver down. She'd let Malcolm down. Maker, she'd let her whole family down. The only thing that could make this worse would be seeing her dad. She couldn't bare to see him right now. He'd be so ashamed of who she'd become. A murderer, a wreck, a-

“Hawke?” The voice called, more urgent this time, snapping her awake.

The room span as she jumped up, banging her knee on the table. Her hands reached for her blades out of habit, stumbling over her own feet. Not so light-footed now, was she?

“Calm, calm. It's just me.” The voice spoke.

She focused her wary eyes to see Varric in front of her and put away her blades. What a sight for sore eyes.

“Sorry about that.” She mumbled.  
“No need to apologise, you need to sleep with your eyes open in this place.” Varric noted the nearly empty tankard in front of Hawke, “It's a little early for you to be on the booze, is it not?”  
“Shut up, knobhead.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes.  
“Couldn't sleep at home?”  
“Ehhh... You know what it's like. Gamlen... Mother... Bethany... I can't get any time for myself, I can't remember the last time I could.”  
“Are you okay, Hawke?”

That question filled her with a strange sense of dread. How could she even begin to answer that? It wasn't important anyway. Instead, she just sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Come on, let's go to my room. I could probably whip you up some tea or something.” She caught his eye, noticing a familiar look. “You look like you need it.”

Reluctantly, she followed him upstairs. Her legs felt heavier than lead, every step almost unbearable as she gripped onto the wall for support. Where had she seen that look before?

  
  


It had been in an abandoned warehouse, after a raid. Hawke was looting the dead bandits, Anders healing Isabela and Varric was checking Bianca for damage.

“What's happened to you?” He mumbled calmly to himself, but the look in his eyes gave away how he truly felt. Worried? Concerned? Well, Hawke had never really been one for words.  
“Is there something wrong with Bianca?” Hawke asked, pocketing her findings.  
“She's just... a little jammed I think.”

The group seemed to still, watching Varric mutter curses under his breath, fiddling with the intricate crossbow with his nimble fingers. Hawke shot a look to Isabela, who shrugged back. Shit, Bianca wasn't _really_ broken, was she?

Suddenly, there was a loud clunk and the crossbow retracted, Varric's shoulders falling in relief.

“Oh, thank fuck!” Varric wheezed, “If something happened to her I swear I'd learn necromancy and bring these buggers back to life, just to kill them again.”

He checked her over a few more times, handling her as if she was the most important thing in his world. What was she thinking, of course she was!

“Onwards then?” Hawke asked, turning in the direction of the exit. It was time for a drink.  
“Lead the way, Hawke.”

  
  


Varric closed the door behind Hawke and invited her to sit down.

“So... I don't mean to pry, but... What's going on, Hawke?”

Hawke shrugged her shoulders and slunk into a spare chair, legs sprawled out.

“Would it kill you to get some human-sized furniture up here?” She moaned.  
“Don't change the subject. You've not been yourself this past while.”  
“I'm just a bit overworked... you know, getting money for the expedition.”  
“Is that it?” Varric asked slightly sceptically, dragging a chair towards Hawke, sitting down and leaning in to listen.  
“It's just stressful, you know, having to hide Bethany. I feel like I'll turn around for one minute and when I look she'll have been taken to the circle. The sooner the expedition gets going, the better.”  
“She's safe for the time being, I've got people looking out for her.”  
“Thanks.” She sighed, leaning her head on her fist.

Silence prevailed as he watched her fingernails tap out a soft rhythm on the table. She sighed deeply, staring intently at nothing at all.

“I've known you a year now, Hawke, and I know when something's still eating at you.”  
“Something's always eating me.” She cocked an eyebrow and looked him in the eye. “I think it's Isabela's turn next.”

A chuckle escaped his lips and a twinkle met his eye, but he pushed that down to look stern again.

“That's not what I mean, Hawke. If you don't want to tell me then I can't force it out of you. I just want to help.”  
“You help enough already.” She sighed, shuffling about, her bum already numb. Whoever thought sitting on stone was a good idea?

“All I do is go around shooting people for you. It's not exactly much.”

She shrugged and pursed her lips. He did a lot more for her than that and he knew it.

“I don't know about you,” He continued, “but I consider you one of my best friends and I'd hate to think of you trying to go through something alone.”  
“You don't need to bother yourself. It's not important.”  
“How many times have I moaned about Bartrand or the Merchant's Guild to you? What about the other night when I rambled on and on about my editor?”

Maybe saying something wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

“I just...” Hawke began, staring intently into her lap, “I still don't think I've really gotten over Carver's death.”  
“It's only been... what, two years?”  
Hawke nodded. “Pretty much. I wish he could be here...” Hawke murmured, finally meeting Varric's understanding gaze, “And I miss him. I miss seeing him. I miss talking to him. I miss making fun of him...” Hawke's lips turned up into what could almost be described as a smile, but her eyes conveyed how she truly felt. “Maker, I even miss arguing with him...”

She paused for a moment. Shit, figuring out how to put her feelings into words was hard. Varric was good at describing things, wasn't he? He _was_ a writer, after all. Thank goodness Hawke had no such writerly dreams.

“And I just... I hate the atmosphere at home right now. Everyone blames me for Carver's death and even my own mind is telling me conflicting things. I don't know who to believe.”  
“You did everything you could to stop him?” It took Hawke a moment to realise it was a question.  
She shrugged. “I _thought_ I did, but now I'm not so sure.”  
“Honestly Hawke, I don't think it's your fault. What were you supposed to do, reach up and grab him back from the ogre?”  
“I could have done something...”  
“'Could have's are deadly, Hawke. They'll eat you up until there's nothing left of you. You did all you could and no-one could ask for any more than that.”

She sat silently, looking over at the empty tankard at the other end of the table, left from last night, eyes glazed over. She shifted again in her seat, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. A babyish position, yes, but less babyish than crying.

“So you've been keeping this all to yourself?” He prodded.  
“Who could I speak to?” Hawke sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Who could I actually tell? Who would _actually_ listen? I don't want to burden Mother... or Bethany... or anyone else with all this drivel. Shit, I shouldn't even be telling you!” She swallowed down a hot lump, fire behind her eyes. “How could I speak to Mother anyway when she thinks it's my fault? Bethany doesn't get involved and I wouldn't want to get her involved. She has enough to worry about. And even Gamlen turns away when we talk about Carver. I don't think he notices, but he would have loved a nephew, I can see it in his face.”  
“What about Rivaini? Daisy? Even Blondie?”  
“They have their own problems, Varric.”

Varric nodded slowly in agreement. It was true that she didn't really have anyone to confide in. He reached his hand out to Hawke's shoulder, to show sympathy, but she shrugged it off, trying to ignore her suddenly frantic heartrate.

“Sorry, Varric.” She murmured, lowering her head, rubbing her forehead and blinking rapidly, “I'm just not... I haven't had much non-violent human contact in a while.”  
Varric shook his head, “To be honest, I can't remember the last person I actually wanted non-violent contact with.” He shifted his eyes and mumbled, “Apart from Bianca, I guess.”  
“You and that goddamn crossbow.” She chuckled weakly, “Get a room, you two!”

Varric chuckled too, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't exactly what he meant. No, she didn't need to know.

“So I guess now you know just how fucked up I am... or at least why I'm so fucked up.”  
“I think all you need to do right now is give yourself time and space to grieve.” He spoke, softly.  
“That's not exactly possible when we're stepping on each other's toes at Gamlen's.”  
“You're free to visit me up here whenever it gets a bit much. It's nice having company that isn't business related. My palatial suite is your palatial suite, and all that.”  
“So I can visit _any_ time?” She smirked weakly, “I'm sure I'm going to take you up on that offer.”  
“Sure. And If there's ever anything I can do for you then _please_ let me know.”

She nodded lightly and fell silent for a while, taking in the quiet surroundings and the comfortable company. Maker, what did she do to deserve someone like him?

“Don't let me keep you up, it must be really late now.”  
“It's early, Hawke.”  
“Early? What time is it?”  
“It's just past 9 now.”

Hawke's brow furrowed, eyes widening, looking down at the ground. She tapped her fingers lightly, trying to count how many hours of sleep she had. Four? Five? Maybe even six? That was definitely the best night's sleep in a while.

“So...” Hawke spoke, clearing her voice, “what's the plan for today then?”  
“It's up to you. I've got some more information that's come through if you want to follow any of the leads.”

Varric tossed a pile of notes over and Hawke leafed though. Varric's handwriting was definitely nice to look at. For one thing, it was actually legible.On the other hand, Hawke's was only legible to her. Who would need to read anything she wrote anyway? It was a sort of a protection kind of thing. What was she doing again? Oh yeah.

Fuck, she was exhausted.

“We'll see what the other's think.” Hawke sighed, standing up and stretching, “All I know is that I need something to get my mind off all this...” She gestured to her head, “this shit.”

Varric nodded, grabbed his coat and opened the door. His ear was immediately met by a few familiar voices having a heated discussion.

“Speaking of the others, I'm sure I can hear the Elf and Blondie at each other's throats already.”  
Hawke stood, listening for a moment. “Oh yeah... I think it's about the chantry this time!”  
“Come on,” he coaxed, “breakfast is on me today.”

It was time for her least favourite part of the day. She followed him down the stairs, breathing in deeply, forcing her mouth upwards and her eyes relaxing. It was time to put her mask back on, whether she liked it or not.

“How did I know you'd be here?” Bethany started the moment she came into view.  
“And a good morning to you, too.” Hawke proclaimed with no missing notes of sarcasm. “Don't worry, I was only here to escape your snoring.”  
Bethany flushed bright red and lowered her head, her eyes shifting, “I-I don't snore!”  
“Sure, sis. And I'm a templar here to arrest you.”

Bethany rolled her eyes and shook her head, her eyes darting to Anders, who was unable to pry his eyes from Hawke.

“That's not even funny!” Bethany cried. “And anyway, I really don't snore!”

She took a spare chair at the other head of their usual table, which was noticeably less busy than it was during Wicked Grace last night. Of course, Aveline was on duty, Merrill was likely frolicking through the gardens in Hightown and Isabela was never known to emerge from her room until noon.

“Blood sausage sandwich, Hawke?” Varric asked, sitting beside her and waving over the bar staff.  
“You know me _too_ well.” Hawke smirked, winking.  
“Oh, get a room you two!” Sneered Bethany.  
“Don't worry, sunshine, I have one.”  
“Varric!” Hawke howled, punching him jokingly on the arm. That really wasn't the sort of thought she needed right now.  
Varric laughed and shook his head, leaning forward and looking over at Hawke longingly. “You all know there's only one woman for me.”

Hawke's heart pounded under his gaze. It was a joke, of course it was! It had to be, surely, but he left the punchline a split second too long. But then he sat back, raised an eyebrow and proudly tapped Bianca, who was resting under the table, protected between his legs.

“How did I ever see that coming?” groaned Fenris.

Hawke forced a laugh out of habit and shook her head, using the bad joke to laugh off the unease she felt. That twisted knot in her stomach wouldn't go away, no matter how much she ate. If anything, it made matters worse. Maybe a pick-me-up from the bar could help her through the day. To be honest, after the night she'd had she _did_ kind of deserve it.

“Actually, Varric, could I have a tankard too if there's one going?”  
“Sure.” He shrugged.

The glare from Bethany was possibly one of the worst yet, but it wasn't worth acknowledging.

The tankard arrived within minutes and Hawke used it an an excuse not to engage in the current conversation. The lack of sleep was already catching up with her and she could barely concentrate enough to string a sentence together in her head, let alone out loud. At least the tankard was helping, a little. Bethany's glare persisted though.

“Sis, you really shouldn't be drinking this early!” She eventually spoke.  
“You're not the one that had to deal with your snoring!” She retorted, surprised she was making sense. “And don't get me started on what you were saying in your sleep-”  
“T-That's enough, Marian!” Bethany cried, eyes widening and darting towards Anders.

 _I knew it!_ She smirked to herself.

“Fine, fine...” Bethany yielded, “Do what you want...”

“What's the plan for today then?” Fenris asked Hawke, who - in turn - looked over at Varric, raising her eyebrows. Mother always taught her not to speak with her mouth full.  
“Well, we have a few leads on information I've been collecting.” He said, throwing a bunch of notes into the middle of the table.

Everyone fumbled through the papers, skim reading through.

“Anyone have a preference?” He asked.  
“The wounded coast sounds good to me.” Anders said, “Bit of fresh air wouldn't go amiss right now.”  
“Of all the places...” Varric grumbled, “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the wounded coast?”  
“Only twenty times that I can think of.” Hawke retorted between bites.

The last of the sandwich was crammed into Hawke's mouth and the rest of her tankard was downed before Varric could complain any more.

“Everyone ready to go?” She asked, .cracking her neck to get rid of some of the tension from sleeping with her head on a table.

The group grumbled in agreement and rose from the table, readying for a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 12th of March 2018


	2. Chapter 2

"I think that's us done here" Varric said triumphantly, placing Bianca back in her holder, "How much did you get, Hawke?"  
"A shit tonne of bits, twenty-something silvers and one soverign... not too shabby."  
"I'll be expecting a drink on you tonight then."  
"Ha ha ha." Hawke sighed sarcastically, "You'd have to earn the coin through beating me at Wicked Grace."  
"You say that as if it would be difficult!"  
"D'ya want a knife through ya?" Hawke asked, immitating the broad Starkhaven accent of the fish merchant in Hightown, "'Cuz that's wit you're gonna be gettin'!"  
Varric chuckled and shook his head at the immitation.  
"If you two are finished bickering like an old married couple, then I'd like to go home now." Bethany sighed.  
"We're not finished, actually." Hawke said, folding her arms, "We're just about to have a heated debate about the merits of nug farming."

Bethany comically rolled her eyes and began walking in the direction of Kirkwall. Hawke shrugged her shoulders and began following behind.  
"You okay over there, Blondie?" Varric called behind them.  
"Yeah... fine.." Anders sighed back, not walking, but instead looking out to the sea.  
Varric leaned into Hawke.  
"Shall I or will you?" He mumbled, pointing between himself and Hawke.  
"I'll speak to him. You go see if you can cheer up sis."  
"I'm right ahead of you."

Hawke wandered over to Anders, hands clasped behind her back.  
"Hey there, handsome! What'cha doin'?"  
"Just.. thinking."  
"Whoa, don't think _too_ hard! You might blow something up."  
He chuckled lightly and looked at Hawke, his eyes sparkling more than the waters of Kirkwall's coast ever could.  
"Oh, Hawke... you never fail to make me smile."  
"Glad I'm good for something, other than eating, sleeping and sticking knives into people."  
"Don't undersell yourself! You're... well..." He looked at Hawke before sighing and looking back out to the sea, "You're the best friend some of us have."  
"You must not have many friends then!"

She had intended to make him laugh, but he stood silently, his eyes mirroring the dark clouds beginning to pass overhead.  
_Shit. I've said something wrong again, haven't I?_  
"Let's get back." He sighed, turning around and walking back to meet up with the others  
"Oh, okay."

"Where's everyone off to now then?" Hawke asked, rejoining the rest of the group.  
"Paperwork. Bartrand has me organizing some of the supplies for the deep roads so I'll be writing up trade agreements. It'll be thrilling, I'm sure."  
"I'm going home to read that spellbook you got me, Varric. I'm excited to learn more about healing!"  
"Fenris, what about you?"  
"I'm going to bake a chocolate cake." He sighed, with a tone as flat and cutting as his sword.  
"Good thing Daisy isn't here," Varric snorted, "She would have believed you and wanted to help."  
"What about you, Anders?" Hawke asked, looking back.  
"What?" He asked, looking up  
"What are you off to do? Back to the clinic as usual?"  
He nodded, staying quiet.  
"And you, Hawke?" Varric asked, glancing over.  
"I don't know yet. I'll see." __  
"Whataver you do, take it easy. I think you've done enough for today."  
Hawke nodded, stopping herself from a sly smile appearing on her lips.  
_I already know what I'll be doing, s_ he thought to herself, feeling for the letter in her back pocket, _Another job of course!_

  
  


"Another demon!" Aveline cried.  
"I've got it!" Hawke growled, running towards it, blades ready.  
She lunged forward and sliced through the demon's back.  
_It's your fault._  
It tried to swipe at her, but she dodged out of the way and slashed through it as she did so, dark liquid oozing out of its wounds. __  
You can't do anything right,  
The knife tore through the demon as it shreiked and fell to the ground.  
_You're a failure, Hawke._

"Is that them all?" Hawke called out.  
"No..."  
"No?"  
Hawke looked around, but froze when she saw it.  
_Maker's dimpled butt cheeks._  
It has to be a fucking ogre, doesn't it?  
She tried to run, but her legs froze in place. She couldn't move. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, hr head a mess of thoughts. She could barely hear herself think... other than the snide remarks.  
_You useless piece of shit._  
The ogre looked her up and down and scraped its foot along the ground, ready to charge. She could feel bile rising in her stomach. She couldn't grip her daggers, her hands felt as if someone had cast an ice spell.  
"Hawke, move!" Aveline cried.  
But Hawke just shook her head. Aveline banged on her sheild and waved her sword. "FACE ME!" She screamed at the ogre, "I STAND FOR ALL OF US!"  
The ogre looked over at Aveline and charged. Hawke took a deep breath and willed her legs to move again, one after the other and grasped the blades in her hand.  
_I'm too sober for this shit._  
Aveline ran out of the way, at the last minute, avoiding the ogre's rampage.  
_This is no time to be weak,_ she told herself, running behind the monster, slashing at its legs, _For Carver, if no-one else_.  
She could smell the horribly familiar, pungent aroma as she dodged it's careless arm swings, trying to breathe through her mouth. In that moment she could have been back in Fereldan. She half expected to see Carver's dead body on the ground behind them. His lifeless eyes flashing through her mind. She jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding another swipe, her heart beating through her chest.

The ogre got ready to charge again, scraping its foot along the ground. She jumped onto its back and stuck her blades in. The ogre let out a roar and charged, flinging her off. Before she knew what was happening, she landed on her back, teh momentum throwing her head back, smashing it on the hard ground.  
"AH!" She cried, rubbing her head, "Fucking shitty piece of... shit." She mumbled to herself, sitting up and raising to her feet.  
She looked up to see one of her blades still stuck in the ogre's back as it charged towards Merrill, who gave chase and hid behind a tree. She sarched for her spare blade in her backpack, wiped the sweat from her forehead and ran around behind the beast, slashing at its legs. Her chest felt tight under her armour, her head throbbing, she couldn't control her hands as she wanted to.  
_No, no, no!_ She cried aloud in her mind, _I can't breathe!_  
She jogged backwards, out of the way of its next charge, holding a hand to her chest.  
_Maker, help me! I can't breathe!_

She fumbled in her backpack for something... anything that might help. Water? It did nothing. A stamina drought? It was worse than nothing. All it did was just increase her heartbeat and made her mind rush around even more quickly.  
"You okay there?" Isabela called over.  
"Never better!" She sighed, stretching her arms out trying to look as if she was ready to fight.  
With one last swipe from Aveline and a fire ball from Merril, the creature fell to the ground, a horriffic cry erupting. The group checked themselves for injuries and gathered their belongings. Hawke, however, had a different idea. She storned over to the monster, took back her blade and stomped it in the face.  
_His death was your fault, Hawke._  
She rammed her foot into its face, again and again, feeling the bones crushing underfoot. The blood oozed out, its eyes sunk in. The foul smell only grew worse. __  
It would have been better if _ **you**_ _had died instead._  
"Hawke?... Hawke! I think it's dead!" Merrill cried.  
She stopped stomping, took a deep breath, scraped her foot across the ground to get rid of the disgusting blood and readjusted her hair back into it's ponytail.  
"Just wanted to make sure." She sighed, "Let's see what resources we can get from up here. Keep an eye out for ironbark. That's what we came here for."  
Aveline shot her a pained look, but soon shook her head and began scouting the area. Hawke pretended she didn't see that.  
"Want a drink?" Isabela asked, sliding up to her, "That was rough."  
"You don't know the half of it." She sighed, taking the hip flask from Isabela and drinking rapidly, "Fucking... ogres..."

  
  


"Aah, if it isn't my _favourite_ dwarf!" Hawke sighed, collapsing on the nearest chair she could find.  
"I'm going to regret my words yestersay, amn't I?" Varric moaned, loking up over piles of parchment.  
"It was a little silly of you to offer your place to me, any day, any time. Don't worry though, I intend to make you regret that decision." She streched out like a cat ready to sleep, "Do you have anything to eat up here?"  
"I have an apple here if you want it."  
Varric threw it over but Hawke didn't catch it. Instead, she shot him a look, letting it hit the floor and roll into the corner of the room.  
"Thought not." He chuckled, scribbling down something.  
"Still doing the trade agreement?"  
"No, just doing some writing. My publisher is getting annoyed that I haven't turned out any new pages in a while and well... she's quite the force to be recconed with."

Hawke looked around for something to do.  
_What's this?_ She thought to herself, picking up a book and looking at the cover, _...Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras? Is this smut!?  
_ She giggled to herself, opened it up and began reading.

The light scratching of Varric's quill was soothing. Between turning each page, she took the opportunity to look over at him, watching his face change expression, his head shaking, hands moving as his characters' would. She didn't realise she had a smile on her face until she noticed her face hurt from doing so.

"What was up with Blondie earlier?"  
"I... don't know, actually. He just looked a bit sad and told me I was his friend."  
"His friend? I could have sworn he wanted to be more than _that._ "  
She laughed a little before seeing the serious look on Varric's face.  
"Wait, you're being serious!?"  
"I'm pretty darn sure of it."  
_I_ _ **did**_ _say something wrong earlier then... didn't I?_  
"I doubt he would be interested in me... I mean, why would anyone be?"  
"I think you'd be surprised."  
"You're not going soft on me too?" She joked, wafting the book in front of him.  
"Don't worry, Hawke. That's the _last_ thing on my mind right now."  
"I'm so flattered!"

Hawke dug her nose back into the book.  
"Huh?" She cried, reading the first twist, "Ooh, I see!"  
_This is really serious for a smutty book..._ She thought to herself, _I kinda like it!_

"So how have you been feeling today, Hawke?" Varric asked, looking over once more. __  
"Never better. Can you not tell?"  
"You don't exactly seem it."  
"What gave me away? Was it the bags under my eyes? The scuffs on my boots? Oh, I know! I broke a nail earlier, that must have been it!"  
He rolled his eyes, "Please enlighten me, what _did_ you do when you got back then?"  
She shrugged her shoulders, "Hung around, went to the market and all that... picked up a new backpack, my old one was falling apart."  
"Is that all?" He asked, eyebrows raised, leaning in and putting his quill down.  
_Aah, shit._  
"I keep forgetting you have spies... I should know better than to try to fool you."  
"You need to calm down and stop working so much, it's not good for you!"  
"It gets my mind off things _and_ gets me coin!"  
"You're going to burn out sooner or later. When was the last time you had a day off?"  
She shrugged and slumped further into her chair, using the book to obscure Varric's stern glare.  
"What is this, an interrigation?"  
"One of these days you'll be unable to cope anymore and I worry it's going to be in the middle of battle."  
"Naah, I'll be fine. I'll take a stamina potion."  
"That won't work. There isn't a potion for _mental_ stamina!"  
"I'll be fiiiiine!" She sang, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair, "I'm having time off now, amn't I? Look at you! You're always either on a job with me, doing paperwork, writing or playing Wicked Grace."  
"You've got me there." He sighed, pushing his chair back, "I don't consider writing work though... _or_ Wicked Grace."  
"So is that you done for the night?"  
"I guess."  
"Let's get some drinks in here then. I owe you for today, anyway."  
"I have a meeting tomorrow I need to be fresh-faced for."  
"You? Fresh faced? That'll be the day." She laughed, eyes gleaming.  
"Fine, fine." He sighed, eyebrows raised and a smirk appearing on his lips, "Edwina! Two tankards please!"  
"Coming right up!" A voice called from downstairs.  
"I see you've spied a book of mine."  
"What's this?" Hawke cried, feigning ignorance, "A book? How did this fowl beast appear in my hand? Begone!"  
She laughed a litle too much at her own joke and placed it down on the table.  
"It's actually... quite good so far."  
"Feel free to keep reading. It's just been published so I'm waiting for appraisals to come in. I'd prefer some honest opinions though."  
"Sure."  
"Never thought I'd see that day when you'd pick up a book out of choice."  
"Hey! I _have_ picked up a book before! Just to move it out of the way to get something else. Anyway, I'm just waiting for the dirty scenes!"  
"Dirty scenes?"  
"Well, it _is_ called Hard in Hightown."  
Varric chuckled and shook his head, "Of course _you_ would assume that."  
"You mean it's not?"  
"Nope."  
"Great. Now I'm emotionally invested in a book that doesn't have smut in it!" She sighed sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "Thanks for that!"  
"You're welcome."

The barmaid entered and placed two foaming tankards on the table.  
"Anything else?" She asked.  
"A blood sausage sandwich wouldn't go amiss."  
"How _did_ I know you were going to say that?" Varric mused aloud.  
" I'll see what I can do."

Varric watched as Hawke lifted the tankard to her lips and took a long drink. Her eyes closed softly.  
"Aaaaah..." She sighed, eyes gleaming in her usual cheeky way, "It never tastes better than after a long day of work."

He watched her as she streched her arms and legs over the armrests of the chair and left her arms dangling where they fell.  
_That can't be comfortable,_ He thought to himself.  
"Are you wanting to stay here tonight?"  
"I _should_ really go back home. If I spend too much time around 'potential suitors' then my mother will surely have a strongly worded letter sent to you."  
"Me? A potential suitor?"  
"Mother's standards aren't exactly the same as mine... No offence."  
"I'll take that as 'I'd rather not ruin this wonderful friendship we have' instead of the 'You're not good enough for me' that it sounded like."  
"More like... you're not quite my type."  
"Oh?" Varric asked, his pulse quickening, but his cocky tone remaining, "And what _would_ your type be? If that Jethann guy was anything to go by then I'd guess... short, lanky elven guys? The broody elf should be right up your street then. Two out of three isn't bad."  
Hawke shook her head.  
"Forget I said anything." She mumbled, picking the book back up and hiding her face, which was quickly turning a bright red.  
"You're going to say that but then just leave it there?"  
"Just, drop it! _Please._ "  
"Fine... fine..."

_Shit, Hawke! Why did you say **that**? I mean, Maker's balls, throw him off the scent but don't throw him off a bridge!_

As intriguing as the book was, Hawke couldn't focus. Her own words plagued her mind.  
_Would it have really been so difficult to just... I don't know... run screaming from the room instead. You would have embarassed yourself less._  
She could feel her face getting hotter yet.  
_Just... don't let him see your face like this._

She reached her arm back out for the drink, using the book to sheild her face.

"You got any plans for tomorrow?"  
"I do actually, for once."  
"Please tell me it involves relaxing in some way."  
"Don't worry, it does! You know I find stabbing people _most_ theraputic."  
"And what is this relaxing plan then?"  
"Fighting those Hightown bandits of course!"  
"The group I've been getting information on? The group I suggested that we wait until we _have_ some information on, other than where they're based?"  
"Precicely."  
"I should just... stop giving you advice while I'm ahead, shouldn't I?"  
"Pretty much!"  
He rolled his eyes, "You better make sure you've got a hell of a team with you."  
"I plan on bringing everyone.. except Bethany of course, that's a given."

She put the book down and quickly hid her face behind her tankard after meeting Varric's gaze.

"I should be heading home soon. Mother will worry. Well, she'll worry anyway, but I don't want to give her more reason to."  
"Fair enough. I'll be here, ready to go when you need me tomorrow."

She downed what little was left of her tankard and waltzed out of the room. She saw Edwina half way down the stairs.  
"Oh, Hawke! I have your sandwich here if you're still wanting it."  
"I'll take it with me. Thanks!" She said, picking it off the plate.  
She immediately regreted picking up a hot sandwich with a molten piece of food falling out of the middle. Carefully, she walked out of the door, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

 _If I see a bandit and I have to put down my sandwich then I swear... they'll feel my wrath!_ She thought to herself, an angry look on her face.

Maybe it was that very same look that stopped the bandits from coming near her that night. _  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited on 21/11/17 (just some minor spelling and grammar fixes)


	3. Chapter 3

“So where is it we're going then, Varric?” Merrill sang, purposefully plodding along the street.  
“You mean you agreed to come without knowing what you'd be doing?” Fenris sighed, putting his palm to his face.  
Merrill shrugged, “Well, why wouldn't I?”  
Varric shook his head, “Oh, Daisy... What will we do with you?”  
“Do with me? What do you mean?”  
He shook his head again and rubbed his temples, “It's just another expression.”  
Isabela's head suddenly appeared between the two.  
“ _I_ have things I'd do with you, Merrill.” She quipped.  
“Ooh, now this _is_ something dirty, isn't it?” Merrill chirped.  
“And how _did_ you guess that?” Anders sighed, a smirk on his face.  
“Half of what comes out of her mouth is dirty, I just took a lucky guess.”

Hawke trailed behind the group, trying to listen, to grasp at the words flying back and forth, but she just couldn't keep up. Her eyes felt heavy. She strained to keep them open. They had been open for so long now.  
 _All I want is one night without a night terror. Just_ _ **one**_ _night!_ She thought to herself, shielding her tired eyes from the harsh mid-day sunlight, _What if I'm never able to sleep again without having one?_

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, but immediately regretted it. The dull pain in her head suddenly turned sharp, as if someone stuck a dagger in her temples.  
 _No-one wants you here. You're just a hindrance that takes all money that_ _ **they've**_ _earned._  
She tried to blank out the familiar thoughts, but they still niggled away at her, bit by bit. She tried to steady her breathing, but she couldn't help but notice how tight her chest felt. Her heart pounded, she could hear it so clearly in her ears, her legs felt weak, numb, heavy. A cold sweat trickled down her back.  
 _No. This is_ _ **not**_ _happening again._  
She clenched her fist, feebly digging her nails into her palms, but her hands felt too weak to have any affect.  
 _Was it really too much to hope that yesterday's blind panic was a one off?_

She could hear heavy footsteps approaching, a shadow appeared in front of her.  
“You okay there?” Varric murmured, tagging along with her, matching her slow pace.  
She nodded slowly but kept walking, eyes fixated on the ground in front of her.  
 _Just don't think about it._  
“Hawke?”  
 _Just ignore this and it'll all go away.  
_ She tried to carry on, but it was all getting too much. She slowed down and held her hand to her chest, forcing deep breaths, her head spinning. __  
“I really don't think you should be coming with us...” He sighed, looked her up and down “What's going on?”  
“I... I'm fine. Just give me a... moment.”  
“Maker's dimpled butt cheeks, Hawke! You're **not** fine!” He cried, “You can't come with us like this.”  
She tried to force her legs to work, taking feeble steps towards the others who were now out of view, past a corner.  
“O-okay... I lied... I think I'm... I'm going to have a blind panic.” She whimpered, forcing herself to breathe, “I-I can't do this. I need to... sit down... somewhere.”

“Keep up, slowpokes!” Isabela's voice cried out, “Stop gossiping when I'm not there to hear it!”  
“You go on with them.” She wheezed, stopping dead in her tracks, “No point in... stopping now.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Just tell them I'm gonna be sick or something.... I mean, I probably am but... yeah...”  
“I'll come find you when I can.” Varric said nodding, “You take care of yourself. My suite is there if you need it.”

Hawke nodded, turned around and began to look for somewhere she could curl up into a ball and forget about the world. People's heads seemed to turn, to look at her as she passed.  
 _They're watching you._  
Their eyes followed her. Their stares burned into her back.  
 _They can see through your weak front._  
She needed somewhere away from the prying eyes. Somewhere she could be alone.  
 _They know how weak you are._  
She didn't know where to go, but getting out of Hightown seemed like a good start. The hustle and bustle of it all just made her feel worse. Tentatively, she made her way down the many stairs, holding onto the handrail for what felt like dear life.

Finally, her foot reached the ground after the last step. She was back in Lowtown. She could feel the lack of concern for others that people had here. No-one would stare at you, they just walk past, going about their _own_ business.  
No prying eyes.  
No harsh stares.  
She stood for a moment, taking in the calmer atmosphere, considering her options.  
 _Where to now then?  
_ Out of habit, she began to walk in the direction of the Hanged Man, but once she reached the door, she couldn't make herself go inside. The thought of going to the Hanged Man right now, in the state she was in, she couldn't bare. Seeing people she knew, having to make conversation, pretending she was fine all filled her with dread... although not quite as much as the thought of going to Gamlen's. Mother and Bethany should never see her like this.  
 _There must be somewhere I can go,_ she thought to herself, half aware that she was wandering aimlessly in circles.

Before she knew it, she found herself at the docks. The lulling waves calmed her and began to ease her thoughts as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, until someone barged past, almost knocking her over.  
“Watch it!” They cried.  
She quickly checked her pocket for her coinpurse.  
 _Thank fuck._ She thought to herself as she felt the rattle of coins, _Just an inconsiderate git, not a thief._  
She tried to calm her nerves but the sounds around her began to make her stomach churn once more.  
 _There's far too many people here. I need peace... and quiet._  
She shakily strode to the broken, unused part of the docks, her hands quivering, her head feeling light. Carefully, Hawke made her way to the edge, where she knew that only seagulls and the occasional stray cat would look for company.  
 _Perfect._

She slumped down at the edge of the dock, hiding behind a broken box, head in hands. She could feel the repressed emotions bubbling up. The worry, the anger, the sadness.  
 _Don't cry, Hawke. You're not a baby. You're a woman. Don't cry.  
_ It was useless. She scrunched her stinging eyes closed and bit her lip.  
 _Don't cry. Do anything but cry.  
_ She lowered her head and put her hands at the back of her neck, digging her nails into the flesh. Scratching. Pinching. Hitting. Anything to stop the tears falling.  
 _Don't be so fucking weak._

There was no use in trying to stop herself as tears flowed silently. All she could do was wait for them to stop. They felt hot as they rolled down her face, as if they burned into her flesh, falling onto the cracks in the pier and to the salty murk below. Her shoulders shook, her chest wheezing as the quiet sobs emerged. Even with no-one around, Hawke just couldn't bring herself to make a noise when she cried. At least the sea was once again a place of comfort, instead of a prison as it was on the way to Kirkwall. It now served as a reminder of home, no longer just a reminder of what she had lost, but also the home she had made for herself here. She dangled her legs of the edge, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. The darkness and anger of the sea seemed to reflect her own. Endless and unrelenting.  
 _How tempting it is..._ she thought to herself, _To just let myself slip through the cracks and into the sea..._

Above her, the seagulls seemed to mock her in their jovial cries, snapping her from her morbid thoughts, as if they knew she was too much of a coward to ever go through with it. Flying freely in the warm early summer breeze, their wings slicing through the wind in a way Hawke could only wish. She watched the gentle tide of the sea, the waves lapping up towards the dock, splashing up through holes in the pier.  
 _At least my tears are insignificant to the sea._  
She lay down onto her back, tears still streaming and stared at the blue sky above.

  
  


“That was _hardly_ a fight.” Isabela sneered, putting her daggers away, “That information you had was shit, Varric. Hanged Man, anyone?”  
“I thought you'd never ask.” Fenris sighed, a sly grin on his lips as he sheathed his war hammer.  
“Up for a game of Wicked Grace later?”  
“But it's not even Friday!” Merrill cried.  
“I hate to break it to you, but Wicked Grace _can_ be played more than once a week! Everyone in?”  
They all nodded between themselves. All except Varric.  
“Varric, you up for it?”  
“Huh?”  
“Wicked Grace later?”  
“Sure, I eh... I'm going to go see how Hawke is doing.” He sighed, scraping something squishy off the bottom of his shoe, “Just to make sure she isn't puking up her guts or something.”  
“Yeah. I think that's a good idea. Wish her well for me, will ya?” Isabela said, rummaging through the few dead bodies for bloody coin.  
Varric briskly walked away and once around a corner, he sprinted off.

He walked past the spot in which he had last seen Hawke, just in case, but she wasn't there.  
 _No need to worry, she probably went to the Hanged Man._ Varric told himself, walking down the many Hightown steps.

He pushed through the door of the Hanged Man and looked around the bar floor, half expecting to see her at the bar, but of course she wasn't there.  
“You seen Hawke about?” He asked Coriff, who only shook his head, too swamped with drink orders to answer.

He climbed upstairs and knocked on his door.  
“Hawke, it's me. You okay in there?”  
No reply.  
He opened the door to find the room empty, exactly as he had left it.  
“Okay. No need to worry. She's probably at Gamlen's then.”

  
  


He knocked on Gamlen's grubby door and Bethany quickly answered.  
“Is Hawke in?”  
“I thought she was with you. You were doing a job, weren't you?”  
“She wasn't feeling well so she quit early.”  
“That's... not like her.”  
“Let her know I'm looking for her if you see her. Also some of the others are going to be playing Wicked Grace later. You're free to join.”  
“Thanks, I might. I'll send sis to you if I see her.”  
“Much appreciated, Sunshine.”

_Shit. Right, okay. Daisy's house, surely?_

“Sorry, Varric...” She sighed,”...but I've not seen her since she ran off. I'll keep an eye out for her though! Maybe I'll make her a remedy of mine for an upset stomach.”  
“Thanks, Daisy. I'm sure she'll appreciate that.”

_Where the fuck is she?_ He thought, looking up at the changing sky, the tips of the clouds turning a bright amber.

All he wanted was to see her again, to know she was okay, that nothing had happened.  
 _Maybe a calm look on her face too wouldn't go amiss._ He thought, remembering the last time he had seen her looking anything close to content.

She had stood at the docks, watching the waves underfoot. No, she didn't look calm, she looked more deadpan, serious. Her eyes almost looked sad, as if she wanted to be swallowed by the sea herself, as if she would walk out at any moment, allowing herself to drop down into the abyss.

_The docks! That must be where she is!_ He thought to himself, sprinting to the docks, _**Please**_ _don't do anything stupid, Hawke._

“You know...” She had suddenly spoken to him, “There's this... feeling I get from the sea.”  
Varric jumped a little. He hadn't realised she knew he was watching her.  
“What kind of feeling?” Varric asked.  
“I really don't know if I can describe it.”  
“Why not try?”  
She took a deep breath, “Calm... and sad... and remembering old memories.”  
“That sounds like melancholy to me.”  
“Well that sounds like a made up word to _me_.”  
“Well then, you should read more!”

She smiled at him, before gazing back out to the sea, her smile slowly fading. She took a deep breath, looked down at the cracks between her feet and closed her eyes. Something about her stance was so unsettling, as if she would jump in a moment if given the opportunity. No hesitation. He felt relieved when she opened her eyes again and turned back around.  
“Let's head off.” She's said suddenly, turning her back to the sea.

Varric reached the docks, just as most of the ships were docking for the night. He sprinted the length of the main pier, but no sign of her. He scoured the broken pier, seeing a bundle of familiar looking armour in the distance.  
 _SHIT.  
_ He sprinted over, narrowly avoiding the gaps in the pier, relief flooding over him as he saw Hawke was still, in fact, in her armour, soundly asleep.

“Hawke!” Varric panted, trying to catch his breath.  
Her head snapped around and she looked at him with wide eyes. “Varric?”  
“Oh, thank fuck I found you!”  
“I... eh... sorry...” She moaned, rubbing her head, “I didn't mean to be here for long. I just...” she sat up and shook her head, “Wha...? Where are the others?”  
“At the Hanged Man by now, probably. We got rid of the bandits. There was a lot less than I thought there would be, though. Rivaini wasn't very happy about that.”  
“That was quick! How long were you gone? Under an hour, surely?”  
“It's been hours, Hawke. The sun is setting now.”  
She looked out to the sea and the ever expanding shadows, her face looking puzzled. She sat hunched over and defeated, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.  
“Anyway... how are you feeling?”  
“I've been better... been worse though.”  
Varric plonked himself beside her and set Bianca down by his side.  
“You look tired.” Hawke murmured, examining his face.  
“Oh thanks. And this is coming from you?”

She smiled blankly, her eyes still itchy and red with the remains of tears.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
“I um... could I... lean my head on your shoulder?”  
“Sure, go ahead.”  
She shuffled over and dropped her head onto Varric shoulder, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, focusing on Varric's scent. Leather, grease, sweat and cologne. They were admittedly unappealing on their own but somehow when worn by Varric they were... comforting. Anything was better than the stench of the docks, especially now that she'd been here for hours. If anything that made her appreciate him all the more.

“Hawke.”  
“Huh?”  
She turned around to, yet again, see Carver. Hawke sighed and dropped her daggers.  
“I don't want to fight. I'm so tired...”  
“Because you're a coward.” Carver sighed, smoothing his hair down.  
Hawke stayed silent, her eyes locked on the dark wood under her shifting feet, trying to avoid any conflict.  
“Anyway, I'm here to apologise... for _you_ being such a shit sister.”  
“What?”  
“You don't even care about Bethany. You hurt her feelings on a daily basis. You just can't leave her alone, can you?”  
“I don't mean to hurt her!”  
“Yeah and neither will I you.”  
“Huh? Wha-”

Before she had time to react, Carver lunged forward and pushed her over, down into the rapids. She tried to swim to the surface, to breathe, but her legs were somehow bound together.  
“HELP!” She cried, thrashing her arms to no avail. “CARVER, PLEASE!?”  
She was drawn down, down into the deeps, her heart pounding, her body numb with cold and shock.  
 _I'm dying._  
I'm going to die.  
This is it.

The bottom of the sea was just visible under her, the light around her engulfed by the darkness. She couldn't tell if she was losing conciousness or if the sea was really that dark. A dark haired body bobbed in the distance. She used the very last of her energy to swim towards it. Hesitantly, she turned the body over and gasped.  
“F-Father?”  
“Swim away, dear. Swim to the surface. I can help you.”  
“I can't... I'm so tired. I just want to give up. I don't want to fight any more.”  
“Pathetic.” He sneered, “You want to give up everything you've earned? Everything you've been given? You're a coward. You can never be the daughter I wanted.”  
“I'm sorry.” She cried, but he swam away, into the deep.

Suddenly, a seagull's cry rang through the sound of the sea.  
 _A seagull under the sea? I... I must be dreaming, surely?_  
Suddenly the sea changed colour from deep blue to deep red.

Hawke slowly opened her eyes, blinded by the evening light. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she sat up straight and looked around, observing her surroundings steadying her breathing, in and out with the gentle sloshing of the waves under her, taking in the stale, fishy, salty air.  
“You okay there, Hawke?”  
“Mmmh... yeah... fine...” She rubbed her eyes and shuffled a little, her bum feeling awfully numb. “How long was I out for?”

To Varric it felt like mere minutes, but the sun told a different story.  
“A while now.”  
“Great. Well, shall we head to the Hanged Man?”  
“As long as you're up for it. Your choice, though.”  
Hawke didn't even need to think about it.  
 _I'm not going to sit here and think about that nightmares any longer than I have to._  
“Let's go.”  
Varric nodded.   
“I think after today you deserve to let your hair down.”

They rose to their feet and made their way over to the Hanged Man, where they were greeted by a few familiar and sour faces.

“How's your stomach, Hawke?” Merrill asked as they approached the table, her hand reaching into her bag, “I made you a remedy in case you were still feeling ill.”  
“I'm a lot better, thanks.” Hawke mumbled, cringing at the excuse.  
 _Better than them knowing, I guess._  
“I take it you found her then?” Bethany asked.  
Varric nodded and sat in his usual seat beside Hawke.  
“Should you even be drinking right now?” Aveline asked, a suspicious look in her eye.  
“After the shit she's been through today, she deserves it. Literally. She's been through a lot of shit.”  
“Again, that's too much information, Varric.” She sighed, her face screwing up.  
“Let's get this game started, I'm tired of waiting!” Cried Isabela.  
“Shall we say loser has to drink?” Hawke cheered, calling over a barmaid.  
“Ooh, I better get a big jug of water then, shall I?” Laughed Merrill, clapping her hands.

  
  


“You cheated!” Anders cried, throwing his hand down.  
“Did I? What proof do you have?” Isabela snickered, taking a shot.  
“I thought it was only the loser that was supposed to drink!” Merrill cried.  
“At least _you're_ not the loser for once.” Hawke sighed, downing her drink.  
“I'm not?” She asked, looking over the cards, “Hawke, _you_ lost! Varric, I'm getting better at this!”  
“Yes you are, Daisy!” Varric smiled, taking the deck from Isabela, “I'll take over shuffling duties now. I'm sure there's no complaints to be made about that.”

Varric looked over to Isabela, expecting a complaint, but she was too busy looking over at the bar, trying to catch the eye of a patron.  
“Anyone up for shots of whiskey?” Hawke called to the group, ignoring the harsh look from her sister.  
“Now you're talking my language!” Isabela laughed.  
“Count me out, please.” Aveline sighed, shaking her head.

  
  


“Isabela, you're too drunk to even cheat properly.” Varric sighed, watching her clumsily slip a card into her boot, half way  
“Oooooh...” She cried melodically, “What can we do with a drunken sailor, what can we do-”  
“Isabela, shut it!” Edwina cried, slamming her hand on the bar, “Do you want to get chucked out?”  
“GO ISABELA!” Hawke cried, raising her fifth tankard, most of it spilling onto the table.

Varric began gathering up his cards and put them away, out of danger.  
“HEY HO AND UP SHE RISES!” Isabela howled, attempting to climb onto the table, purposefully elbowing Aveline in the face in the process.  
An eager chorus clumsily clapped and deafly sang along, taking great delight in Isabela's rare singing voice, even if she was barely able to stand straight.  
“That's it, out you go!” Coriff sighed, dragging her off the table and out the door, “You can get to your room when you calm down!”  
A chorus of boos erupted, fists banged on the tables, but Coriff went back behind the bar, defiant against the cries.

“It's getting awfully late, I should really go back home.” Merrill sighed, finishing the last of her water.  
“Do you want me to walk you back?” Aveline asked, gathering her things.  
“I'll be fine! The back alleys are surprisingly safe, I don't see what the fuss is about.”  
Aveline shot a look to Varric, who rolled his eyes and nodded slightly.  
“I'll take my leave too. “Aveline spoke, rising to her feet, “Thank you for the... interesting evening.”  
“Bye everyone!” Merrill sang, waving rapidly.

“Everyone up for another game?” Varric asked, getting his cards back out.  
“Winner gets Isabela's coin?” Anders asked, eyeing the money in the middle of the table. “That could be put to good use in the clinic.”  
Hawke picked up her hand and attempted to sort through them for matches. The pictures whirled, she couldn't focus her eyes on them.  
“Hawke, your turn.”  
“I'll... sit this one out... I think.” She sighed, throwing her cards in, “I'll just head outside a minute to sober up.”

She stumbled to her feet and out the door. She knew she wouldn't sober up with a bit of stale outside air. She just needed to be sick somewhere it wouldn't get her kicked out. She'd almost perfected the art of a tactical spew to ensure that she could be in the drunkest possible state by the end of the night.

  
  


“It's so much easier to win without Riveni here.” Varric chuckled to himself, collecting his spoils.  
“I'll have to call it a night there.” Anders sighed, putting his cards on the table and rising to his feet.  
“Is that because you lost?” Fenris mocked.  
“No, because I would like to return home before the sun rises and the Templars start their morning patrols. I'd rather not be stuck in the circle. Who knows, maybe I'd be lucky and get murdered by them next time to save me the pain of circle life.” He turned to the rest of the group, “See you all later.”  
Fenris rolled his eyes watching Anders make his way to the door.  
“I guess I'll head off as well then.” Bethany said, rising from her seat, trying to act cool, “I mean... because it's late!”  
“Will you be okay, Sunshine? I wouldn't mind walking you home.”  
“I'll be fine! It's only a few minute's walk. Plus...” She looked towards Hawke who was drinking the last of her tankard, eyes closed, swaying slightly, “Someone has to look after sis... and I'd rather it wasn't me.” She smiled, jogging to catch up with Anders and turned back to wave, “Bye!”  
“One last game, Broody?”  
“Tempting, but I'm quite tired after today's fight.” Fenris sighed, finishing the last of his wine, “See you later, Varric.”  
“Get home safe.”

Varric looked over at Hawke, the last remaining player, who was face down on the table. Her hair was tangled all around her, loose from its usual ponytail, random gibberish muttered from her lips.  
“Hawke?”  
“Meee...? Issss meee?”  
“I really don't think you should make your own way to Gamlen's tonight.” Varric sighed, looking at the mess that was Hawke, “And I don't exactly fancy the idea of having to help you home. I doubt you're in any state to walk.”  
“Yeeeaamm... Mhmmmm.”  
“You can stay at mine if you can make it up the stairs.”  
Hawke sat up slowly and smiled blankly, slightly swaying from side to side. Varric guided her hand to his shoulder and helped her to her feet.  
“Easy there.” Varric warned, keeping a stiff grip around her waist, “Maker's balls... I've never seen you so fucked.”  
“I... maaaaybeeee... doooo...” Hawke murmured, eyelids drooping.  
“Don't you _dare_ fall asleep or you're getting an ass-full of Bianca.”  
“Ooouuchhh...”  
“Exactly! Now just put one foot... in front of the other... good.”

Varric sighed and somehow began to make his way up the stairs with Hawke. He was rather miffed that none of the bar staff were bothered about helping, but that was typical of them. Hawke definitely seemed to have an opinion about something and was eager to have her opinion heard, but her thoughts came out as a slurred mess.

“I jusss... reaaar.... no masss....” Hawke bellowed, mouth agape.  
“Oh really?” He chuckled, unable to make out a single word.  
“Eeeerrrmmmm...” She moaned, slaver beginning to make its way out of her mouth, “seeeeeccc... varrrreeeekkkk... seeeeeccc.”  
“Huh? You're going to be sick? Fuck. Just not here, Hawke. Wait until I get you a-”  
Hawke leaned to the other side and was subsequently sick down the stairs.

He sighed and put his palm to his face.  
“You're fine. You're okay, Hawke.” He sighed, patting her on the back, “Let's just get you to bed.”  
He dreaded the outcome if he _had_ decided in fact to send Hawke home.

Varric eventually hauled Hawke up the stairs and hoisted her onto his bed.  
“Nooooo... sleeeeeep...” She mumbled, although in the minute that it took for Varric to take off and fling his coat over a chair, she had passed out, face down.   
_Note to self: never let Hawke get so pissed again._

Varric changed into his bed robes - admittedly more than he would usually wear to bed - and lay down beside his docile friend. She grumbled and rolled over onto her side, a soft snore erupting. Varric could see her face and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the dim light. Her torso had a soft rhythm, rising and falling with her inhales and exhales, a gentle wheeze escaping from her lips. A constant - yet comforting - reminder that she was there. He gazed upon the soft glimmer of her hair which for once, wasn't scraped back in a pony tail and was instead gracefully, if somewhat also messily, framing her face. Even her hands looked dainty and precious as they lay beside her face, although covered in scratches and her sharpened nails were still caked in blood from earlier fights.

_How often is she able to let her hair down? Express herself?_ Varric thought to himself, feeling a pang of protectiveness. _When has she ever done something for her_ _ **own**_ _benefit?_  
He felt privileged to know her, to befriend her, to have any sort of an insight into what went on in her head. Well... whatever little she would confide in him, anyway.

He sighed deeply, but soon regretted it as he got a strong wiff of the combined stench of sick, alcohol and general Hanged Man smell. Quickly, he rolled over to stop himself gagging.

_I better try to get to sleep. I've got plenty to do tomorrow. Where am I going again? Oh yeah, that Merchant's Guild meeting. Fuck. I'd much rather be spending the time with Hawke._  
No.  
Get her out of your head, Varric. Not everything is about her.

He couldn't get comfy, nor could he stop thinking about Hawke. He tossed and turned, desperate to fall asleep. Everything seemed to remind him of her nowadays, even the streets of Kirkwall, every one of which he had walked through with Hawke at some point.

“It has a certain charm to it.” He could remember her saying as they went on their first job together, “Once you get over the initial stench, I mean.”  
“I've lived here my whole life and I've never got over the stench, you just learn to ignore it.”  
“It's not as bad as the mabari that our neighbour in Lothering used to have. A sweet dog, but you'd be recovering for weeks if she ever licked your face. She loved Bethany, you should have seen her face when she would come for her!”  
She chuckled to herself for a few minutes.  
“She used to chase her around the garden, she was afraid to go outside if it was there.”  
She laughed even louder this time, doubling over. When she tried to calm down, she only laughed even louder.  
“And one time...” She wheezed, “Bethany was out getting some groceries in the market and the ma... the mabari... she ran up to her and she-”  
“I would very much appreciate you never telling that story.” Bethany interrupted, her face turning pink. “It was embarrassing enough at the time.”

Varric found himself smiling at the memory.  
 _What a simpler time that was.._ He thought to himself, before shaking his head. _No need to think of it right now, though. There's only one lady you need in your life, Varric. Just... keep your mind on Bianca._

He could see the crossbow in his mind's eye, but he couldn't help but remember Hawke looking at her, reaching a hand out to touch her.  
“So... how does it work?” Hawke had asked.  
“How does _she_ work, you mean?” He said, moving out of her reach.  
“Okay, okay... How does _she_ work then?”  
“Don't ask me. Have you ever heard of the shop called the Black Emporium?”  
“I don't think so...”  
“Found her in a bag labelled 'swag' in there, bought her for a ham sandwich and a pair of yellow ruffled pants.”  
“You're pulling my leg!”  
“I did warn you I'm a compulsive liar.”  
“How did you _really_ get her then?”  
“It's a story that I'll never tell.”  
“Not much of a storyteller then.”  
He let out a loud, echoing laugh, “You've got me there.”

_I'm thinking about her again. Shit. Only Hawke of all people could make me think about her when the damned crossbow is named after another woman entirely._

He couldn't deny it any more. His heart raced just a little every time he looked at her, yet... she always looked so vulnerable when she thought no-one was looking. It wouldn't feel right to let her know how he felt. Not when she was like this.

“Maker's balls.” He grumbled softly to himself, “Of all people... it had to be her, didn't it?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest singular chapter I've ever written. I'm still in shock about it. Anyway the story will pick up soon, I swear. Poor Hawke, she's so troubled :(
> 
> Next chapter will be out 6th of November!


	4. Chapter 4

Hawke's eyelids scraped apart. Every muscle in her body hurt like fuck. She stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the fact it was swirling above her.

“Uuugh...” She moaned, attempting to sit up. “How much did I drink last night?”  
 _Enough to escape my problems, I guess...._ She thought, trying her best to stabilize herself with her hands, _At least I didn't have a nightmare last night. That makes for a nice change._

She could still feel every drop of lukewarm mead and warm whiskey rushing through her system as she finally managed to sit up. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned and glanced around the hazy room. This... This wasn't her room!? This wasn't her makeshift bunk bed she had been sleeping in, these covers weren't made of some scratchy sack substitute. The room was a familiar sight, but it took her a moment to realise why.

_Varric's room? Why am I here? Wait, what happened last night? And more importantly... where is Varric?_

There was a rustle from past the end of the bed.  
“Hawke?”  
“Mmmh?”  
“You awake?”  
“...I don't know if you could quite call it that...”  
The screech of a chair being dragged across the floor pierced Hawke's eardrums and Varric's bulky, shadowy figure appeared. His gold chains and cuffs glistened in the dim light, yet even that was too bright for her weary eyes and she couldn't help but squint. She noticed a plate in one hand and a tankard in the other.

“How much of last night can you remember?”  
She stared him blankly, mouth slightly ajar. She swayed from side to side, memories trickling back as quick as sand in an hourglass. A piercing crash came from downstairs and shook Hawke from her muddled thoughts.  
“How much... did I drink last night?”  
“You drunk more than anyone here, probably even Rivaini. I swear you were losing Wicked Grace on purpose just to have an excuse to drink more.”  
Hawke shifted her eyes from Varric's gaze. “Hah... Well... That sounds about right.”  
“Anyway, I got these for you before they stopped serving breakfast.” Varric passed Hawke the plate with a thoughtful blood sausage on it and placed the tankard on the side table. “It'll be cold by now, but still good. I've never seen you turn down food and I figured this wouldn't be the first time.”  
Hawke's stomach rumbled, but it still churned too much to be trusted yet.  
“You do need to be careful not to drink that much again, though.”  
“And this is coming from you?” She scoffed, “You sound like my mother!”  
“ _Maybe_ it's because we both care about you. Now eat up, _please._ ”

She began to gingerly pick at the food in front of her and looked into the tankard, expectantly.  
 _Of course it's just water... What did I expect?_  
 _I... can't even remember getting up the stairs. What happened last night? Did Varric and I...?  
_ She looked up at Varric's face, calm, collected and more than slightly miffed.  
 _I'm sure he would have at least said something by now. He's not that kind of guy anyway..._  
He sighed and turned away, shaking his head. She watched him walk around the room, collecting various items as he went. _  
Yet... why am I so disappointed?_

“I took the liberty of telling the others you wouldn't be about today. You need a day to rest.”  
“But what if someone needs me?”  
“Then they can come back another day or _I'll_ deal with them. I don't want what happened yesterday to become a habit, especially the part where I had to run the length of the whole damned city to find you.”  
“You did?”  
“How else would I have found you, you numbskull?”  
“Oh... right.”  
“You can stay here, I'll be out on business for most of the day.”  
Hawke nodded, “Thanks.”  
“I've got to go, I'll be at the Merchant's Guild if you need me.” He sighed, putting his jacket on, “Maker help me.”  
“I take it you couldn't get out of this one then?”  
“Not without threats to stab me when I sleep.”  
“More reason to have me stay here more often! I barely sleep at the best of times.”  
“Don't tempt me...” He sighed, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Also don't go running off somewhere I can't find you again. Or at least let someone know where you are.”  
“Now you're _really_ sounding like Mother.”  
“I'll see you later. Look after yourself, will you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.  
“I will.”

Varric nodded, gathering the rest of his paperwork, put Bianca in her holder and shut the door behind him.

Hawke set aside her sandwich, instead reaching for her current favourite book and lay back down. The words seemed to dance and swirl almost as much as her stomach did. Her eyelids grew ever heavier, fading in and out of conciousness, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. A few times she realised she was on the brink of a dream before she shook herself awake, heart pounding. Every time she awoke, it became more difficult not to give into temptation to sleep again.

After quite a few times of this, likely spanning a good few hours, she sat up and tried to finish the chapter that she'd barely been concentrating on, but she couldn't get comfy. She tried lying down, first on her side, then on her back, then her other side, then her front, then back on her back and wriggled her way up side down hanging off the bed.

“Uugh.” She moaned, sitting back up the right way, “This is boring! I want to actually _do_ something.”

She stood up, still a little shakily, got changed and grabbed her things.

“Isabela?” Hawke cried, knocking on her door, “Are you in?” She waited a few moments. “Are you even alive?” She waited a little longer, “There's someone selling a pirate ship for two sovereigns downstairs!”  
 _If that won't get her to the door then nothing will. She must be out... or just conked out._

She casually wobbled down the stairs to the floor of the Hanged Man and over to the bar.  
“Hawke?” Edwina cried as she passed, “I'm surprised you're upright!”  
“It would take more than that to keep me down!” She passed over a few bits, “Any chance of a tankard?”  
“Give me a moment.”

_Day off... Day off?What the fuck went through Varric's mind?_

She drunk the tankard that was plopped in front of her. It was just to help with her headache. Of course. It did nothing to settle her stomach, though.  
  
  


She entered Gamlens to a face that was more than a little judgemental.  
“Hello dear.”  
“Hi Mother.”  
She smiled and shifted her eyes. Her mother had that look in her eye, as if everything Hawke had ever done was a bad decision. Maybe that was exaggerating a bit, she was going to hear a lecture any moment now and she knew it.  
“Is Bethany in?”  
She nodded towards their room.  
“I'm surprised you didn't come back last night.”  
 _There it is. I knew it!_  
“I stayed over at the Hanged Man. We were playing Wicked Grace 'till pretty late.”  
“I gathered.” She sighed, her nose wrinkling slightly, “I wasn't even _awake_ when Bethany came home last night. It's not good to encourage such bad habits in your own little sister!”  
“She stayed of her own free will. Blame her if you must blame anyone.”  
“I'm not blaming anyone, dear. And may I ask what the sleeping arrangements were last night?”  
“I was staying in Isabela's room.” Hawke sighed, coolly.  
“That pirate girl?”  
“Yes. My friend.”  
“I've heard stories about her...”  
“And?”  
“Be careful. I don't want her to lead you down a bad path.”  
Hawke raised an eyebrow and bit her lip to stop a smirk from appearing on her face.  
“She seems to be pretty... frivolous with her affections.”  
“...And?”  
“I don't want you getting hurt.”  
Hawke let out a snort, her mother scowled.  
“Sorry to offend you, but we're friends. That's all we are and nothing more.”  
“You say that now but... Just be careful.”  
“Don't worry! I am!”

And with that over with, she went through to her room to find Bethany on the bed, re-reading one of her Orlesian romance novels.  
“Well, hello there, stranger.” She sighed, hiding her face behind her book, “Are you still recovering from last night?”  
“Somewhat.”  
“Ugh! Maker, you smell awful!”  
“You usually say I smell unbearable, so at least that's an improvement.”  
She plopped herself beside Bethany and peered over the top of her book to see her glaring sternly at the words in front of her.  
“I came to see if you wanted to come around the markets with me. You know... Sisterly bonding and all that.”

She looked up with a suspicious look until Hawke gave her an awkward smile.  
“Can I tempt you with a late lunch? My treat?”  
Bethany closed her book and smiled warmly.  
“Is that a yes?” Hawke asked, unsurprised at the effectiveness of the bribe.  
“If I get to choose where we eat.”

The Lowtown market was bustling and lively in the mid afternoon sun. There seemed to be even more vendors than usual. The two made their way to their favourite Fereldan food stall.

“Hawke, it's good to see you! Can I help you at all?”  
“Can I have a bowl of stew?”  
“Of course! Do you want bread with it?”  
“Sure!” She turned to Bethany who was gazing over the selection of sweets, ”You want anything?”  
“No, no...” She sighed, looking longingly at a Fereldan tart.  
“I'll take two Fereldan tarts too. How much will that be?”  
“I owe _you_ , Hawke! I've not been able to pay you for getting rid of the bandits.”  
“You owe me nothing. I did it because I wanted to help a fellow Fereldan, not for the money!” She handed over a few silvers, “Here.”

Before the stall-keeper could refuse, she took her food and began walking away.  
“See you later!”

They found a relatively clean step and sat down. Hawke began demolishing her stew, thinking wistfully back to the blood sausage sandwich laying uneaten in Varric's room. Thank the maker her stomach was somehow able to stomach food again.  
“It's been too long since we've just hung out together.”  
Hawke nodded, her mouth overfull with stew and bread.  
“I miss you, you know. I wish you didn't have to work so much.”  
“Did Varric tell you to say that?”  
“No?”  
Hawke sighed and swallowed another spoonful of stew.  
“I'm doing this for your own benefit too. Once the money from the expedition comes in we can use it to keep you safe.”  
“I know, I know...”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the crowds come and go, buying and bartering, selling and scheming.

“I miss Lothering.” Bethany sighed, looking down at the Fereldan tart in her hand.  
“I know.” Hawke sighed, saddened to see the pain on her sister's face, “I personally don't really miss the place, but I miss the times we had there.”  
Bethany nodded, nibbling hesitantly at the edge of the pastry.  
“Do you remember that time-”  
“If that story is going to mention either Carver or Father, then please don't tell it right now.” Bethany sighed, her hair hiding her face.  
“It was actually going to be about Anders. I know how he always makes you smile.”  
Bethany flinched, “You're not helping.”  
“Maybe I should just stop trying then.”  
 _I can never do or say the right things to her, can I?_  
“Let's get a move on then.” Hawke sighed, rising to her feet, “Shall we check out Hightown now?”

  
  


“What a nice robe!” Bethany thought aloud, holding a silk robe of deep pink.  
“I'll get it for you if you want?”  
“You're joking, aren't you?”  
“Why would I be? You want to look good for Anders, right? I want to help!”  
“Can you just shut up about him... _please?_ ” Bethany cried, face turning red.  
“Here's a friendly tip, though. If you don't want him to know, you'd better be a lot more subtle than that.”  
“Just... shut up, you... IDIOT!”

She turned around and stormed away, muttering profanities under her breath that Hawke didn't even know that she knew.  
“Are you going to buy those robes, Messerre?”  
“I... eh... How much?”  
“One sovereign and ten silvers.”  
 _One whole sovereign for just one robe? This_ _ **is**_ _Hightown I guess._  
She grit her teeth, but handed over the money and stuffed the robes into her backpack.  
“Thank you, Messerre. Enjoy.”

She wandered around the market, considering buying some new daggers.  
“Messerre Hawke!” Worthy cried, “Just the person I need!”  
“Let me guess,” She sighed, “You got a job going?”  
“A very important one! I'll make it worth your while.”  
“You know what I like to hear!”  
“I've been waiting for some cargo and it's running... a little late. Last I heard it was on the Wounded Coast.”  
“So I'm dealing with bandits then?”  
“Well... basically, yes.”  
“How am I getting paid for this then? Fifty silvers for every bandit? Half of the worth of the shipment.. or whatever remains of it...”  
“I don't think I can offer that much.”  
“Those were just suggestions. You _did_ say it would be worth my while... and I am _very worthwhile._ ”  
“I'll see what I can do once it's been recovered.”

  
  


_I swear... If I never have to write up another trade agreement in my life, I'll be a happy man._ Varric thought to himself, trudging up the steps of the Hanged Man. _I swear there's some people in that place that just want to see me suffer. No-one else could expect that much paperwork from one person!_

He swung open his room door, chucked his document bag down and placed Bianca beside his table.  
 _Huh. No Hawke?_  
Her blood sausage sandwich still lay uneaten on the bedside table, her tankard still full, book open, page-side-down on the table.  
“How many times do I have to tell her not to leave my books like that?” He grumbled, placing a bookmark in, checking for warped pages and closing it.

“Varric?”  
He peered his head around the door to see Lorne, his favourite spy.  
“I'm glad I caught you. I've found out some useful information.”  
“About the den?”  
She nodded and placed some paper on his desk.  
 _Great, great... more paperwork! At least it's not Merchant's Guild business.  
_ “Thanks, I'll have a look at that later.”  
“Is that everything?”  
“Actually, have you seen Hawke around at all today?”  
She squinted her eyes and folded her arms, a slight smirk on her lips.  
“I can't quite remember.”  
 _Aah, I've taught her well._  
He passed her a silver and she uncrossed her arms.  
“She was speaking to Worthy in Hightown about dealing with bandits on the Wounded Coast.”  
“Did she accept the job?”  
Lorne nodded, “She walked in the direction of the coast last I saw of her.”  
He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.  
“Thanks again, Little.”  
She rolled her eyes a little at the nickname.   
“No problem.”

He waved her out of the room and sat down and looked through the new information.  
 _I'll go see about Hawke once I've done this._

  
  


“Thanks guys.” Hawke sighed, handing Fenris a health potion, “I owe you one.”  
“You didn't tell me there would be so many bandits.” He grunted, popping it open and downing it.  
“I didn't think there would be so many.” She started scavenging for salvageable and sellable things. “I'll find some nice wine or something for you to make up for it.”  
“Deal.”

“You okay too, Merrill?” She called over to the mage.  
She was patiently observing a lone butterfly. Maker only knows what it was doing somewhere like the wounded coast. But I guess you could say the same thing about her too.  
“Look how sweet this little thing is!” She cried, her face a picture of ecstasy as she tried to let it land on her staff.  
“It certainly is!” She called back, already rummaging through the dead bodies for salvageable goodies.  
“Oh look!” She cried, holding up a sword, “Is this one any better than what you've got?”

He took it in his hand and examined the blade, doing a few practice swings for good measure.  
“It's pretty good, actually.”  
“Will it do until I manage to buy you one?”  
“As I've said before, you have no need to buy me a new sword but... It's very much appreciated.”  
“I'm still sorry about what happened to your last one... Now let's get going. I think it's going to be getting dark pretty soon.”

  
  


With a shot or two freshly downed, Hawke dragged herself up the steps of the Hanged Man, dodging a pool of sick that seemed oddly familiar. She creaked the door open.  
“Hellooo?” She called out, popping her head around.  
Varric sat at his desk, scribbling away.  
“Hey, Hawke.” He muttered, without looking up.  
“So... more paperwork, I see! The Merchant's Guild sure _are_ treating you well.”  
“As ever.” He sighed, “How was your day off?”  
“You know, the usual...” Hawke sighed, perching on the end of his bed, “I'm not even going to try lying to you. I did a few odd jobs.”  
Even though Varric had his head down and his eyes were hidden, Hawke could tell that he exasperatedly rolled his eyes, still head down, a mountain of paper around him.  
“It was nothing _too_ strenuous though!”  
“Did you have to draw your blades?”  
“Yes...” She sighed, throwing herself onto his bed, “I made almost 3 sovereigns though!”  
“Hawke muttered exhaustedly.”  
Hawke rolled her eyes, “You know I hate it when you do that.”  
“She sighed, barely conscious.”  
“Oh, shut it, you!” Hawke sighed.  
Varric chuckled to himself and ducked out of the way of the cushion thrown by Hawke.

“Aaaaanyway.” Hawke sighed, suddenly springing back onto her feet, with more energy than she even realised she had, “I have good news!”  
“Which is?”  
“I have the gold for the expedition!”  
“You do!?”

Hawke opened her pocket and took out a coin purse, full of nothing but sovereigns. Fifty of them in total. She put them defiantly down on his desk, on top of a pile of contracts.

“I still need to make a little extra to tide Bethany and Mother over until we get back.”  
“I take it you decided Sunshine's _not_ coming then?”  
“Was I pissed when I said I'd take her? Do you think I'd _honestly_ allow my baby sister to come to the Deep Roads? I'd have to be a pretty shitty sister to allow that!”  
“She _can_ hold her own, you know. She isn't a baby.”  
“I know but... if something happened to her then...” She shook her head, “I don't want the guilt of _her_ death to follow me around too. Plus I don't know if she'd be able to take it down there. I don't want her to be as fucked up as me.”  
“That's...” His face softened, he knew it wasn't worth fighting over, “...Fair enough. But what about the Templars?”  
“I'm just not going to think about that. She may not agree with me but I'd much rather she was somewhat safe in the circle than dead.”  
“I'll do all I can to keep her safe while we're away.”  
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder.  
“Thanks.”  
“No need for thanks, Hawke. Just doing my job.” He put his quill down, “We'll need to tell Bartrand the good news, then.”  
“Does he even know I'll be coming?”  
“No... not yet. I thought it best if we waited until you had the gold. He wouldn't have taken you seriously otherwise. He's a bit... funny with humans.”  
“You say that as if I don't know that already.”  
“We'll go speak to him in the morning so the last few steps of the expedition planning can get underway. Thank fuck that'll be over soon. Then onto the fun part! Enjoy the last of your free time while you still can.”  
“Fun? I do hope you're being sarcastic.”  
“I thought you would have found fighting endless darkspawn great fun!”  
“As fun as Anders' Templar rants, maybe.”  
“Well I just hope you're not planning to take him then.”

Hawke rubbed the back of her head. No matter how much thought she put into the group coming, it never seemed to be enough.

“We _do_ need a mage, but I'd feel bad taking Merrill down there. I don't think she'd survive more than a day without sunlight... and anyway, Anders is a damn good healer. Plus he used to be a Grey Warden! He'll know the Deep Roads better than anyone else we could get to come with us.”  
“So who else is coming then? We only have supplies for one more.”  
“Fenris.”  
“Really? Not those two! For _weeks_ in the Deep Roads?”  
“We need someone good with a sword, but Aveline has her duties... and anyway, is there anyone that Anders _actually_ gets along with... other than us?”  
“That's... true.”

She picked up Hard in Hightown and sat on her usual, uncomfortable chair and began reading again.  
“How far are you through it now?”  
“Eh... Half way... ish?”  
“Already?”  
“Hey, don't judge me!”  
“Why would I judge you? I'm just surprised that all it took was one book to get you hooked on reading.”  
Hawke stayed quiet.  
“Hawke?”  
She looked up, a little confused.  
“I'm sorry, what?”  
“Never mind.” Varric chuckled to himself, “I'll take that as a compliment to my writing skills instead of an insult to my conversational skills.”

Hawke savoured the words in front of her. She had heard Varric was a good writer, she'd believed it too as his verbal stories had been nothing less than enchanting, (especially with a drink or two in her), but this was so much better than any other books she'd read. He actually wrote it as if he wanted to be writing. As if he believed the characters. Now that she thought about it, she could really do with another drink though.

“You got anything to drink?”  
He tilted his head in the direction of his alcohol shelf and Hawke shuffled over.  
“Can I have some of this whiskey?”  
“Sure if you'll pour me some too.”  
“Pour? Who said anything about pouring? I was just going to drink from the bottle.”  
He smirked, “The glasses are there for a reason. Use them.”

She took the bottle and glasses over, placed them down on the table and sat beside them. Her legs still felt gangly, dangling over the edge of the table, just less especially so now. She poured them both a glass and slid his over.  
“I think you've done enough work for tonight now.”

He took a deep breath, took the glass and sighed.  
“I guess you're right.”  
“Up for a game of Wicked Grace?”  
“You aren't usually keen on one-on-one games.”  
“I'm also not keen on seeing you drowning in work you can't possibly take your own mind off.”

He grinned and reached for his deck. It was always somehow within reach when needed. It didn't take a scholar to realise that Varric was going to be the victorious one. And it didn't help that Hawke was basically falling asleep at the table. Her whiskey making it yet more difficult to keep her eyes open.

“I'm going to have to head home. I'm shattered.”  
“The offer is still there for you staying over.”  
She wanted nothing more, but she knew she'd have to play it cool.   
“Two nights in a row? Mother would have a fit!” She smirked as she stood up, collecting her things and putting her boots back on, “I didn't tell you about what she said to me earlier today, did I?”  
“I don't think so.”  
“She asked where I spent last night and I lied and said Isabela's room.”  
“Naturally.”  
“And she told me to watch out for her putting the moves on me. I mean, she puts the moves on everyone but she _does_ know when to back down!”  
“Well, most of the time.” He smirked.  
“Enough of the time!”

She put her daggers back on her back and stretched her arms up, yawning.  
“Maker, I'm exhausted! See you tomorrow!”  
“Or in a few hours.” He chuckled to himself, “You get back safely, though.”

She left the room and trundled down the stairs, another yawn escaping from her.

“Oh, Hawke!”

She looked over to see Anders at the bottom of the stairs.  
“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?”  
“Nothing, really. I was just going to say hi to Varric. You?”  
“Heading home. It's been a long day.”  
He nodded, “I could... walk you back if you'd like.”  
“Sure. The one minute it takes to get home from here is soooo lonely.”

They headed out the door and in the direction of Gamlen's house.  
“You know...” Hawke began, trying to make conversation, avoiding Anders' pining look, “Bethany has been trying to learn better healing techniques. I think she could do with some guidance.”  
“I could help her. She could even help me in the clinic if she ever had the spare time.”  
“That's a good idea, actually!”

They approached the front door. Hawke would have been surprised how quickly they had got to her door if it wasn't a mere minute away.  
“It's been nice seeing you.” Anders said, a soft look on his face. _  
_“Yeah. It's nice to speak with you without the others here.”  
“I could get used to it!”  
She giggled nervously, her eyes shifting as Anders walked closer towards her.  
 _Shit, Varric was right, wasn't he?_  
She took a nonchalant step backwards and yawned. She could see his mouth open, words getting ready to spill out. She wasn't going to let that happen.  
“Well, I'm really tired. Heading to bed now. See you later!”  
“Nigh-”

She quickly slunk inside the house and closed the door behind her before Anders could even finish his thought, if a little too firmly.  
“We need that door to keep the thugs out!” Gamlen cried out through his bedroom door. “Whoever that is, if you've broken it then _you're_ paying for a new one.”  
“Gamlen, please be quiet! Some of us are trying to get to sleep! This can be dealt with in the morning!” Her mother cried out.

_That was close. I swear he was going to...  
_ She shook her head and made her way to the bedroom.  
 _I'll deal with this another time. I've got enough nightmares to deal with when I'm asleep._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) bonfire night! I love writing Varric and Hawke just chilling together, the dynamic between the two is just perf  
> Next chapter on the 20th of November


	5. Chapter 5

Varric set aside the last of the night's paperwork and took a sip of his brandy as a reward. With Hawke now gone, he had finally been able to concentrate on the work in front of him, instead of pretending to both her and himself that she wasn't a massive distraction. He was just about to start reading the next chapter of his current book when he heard a light knocking at his door.

“Varric?”

He looked over to see Anders standing in his doorway.  
“Oh, hey Blondie. Come in, come in! You want a drink?”  
“I'm tempted,” Anders sighed, approaching his table, but refusing to take up a chair, “but I need to be up early tomorrow for the clinic. Sorry I'm here so late.”  
“It's no problem. Is everything alright?”  
“Fine... It's just about Hawke.”  
“What has she done this time?”  
“Nothing! I just wanted to ask you about her.”  
“Well then... what do you want to know?”  
“Do... you know if there's anyone she likes?”

The question felt like a needle straight to his heart, but he just exhaled, keeping a straight face.  
 _I knew this day would come._

“Well...” Varric sighed, putting a bookmark in his book and placing it on the table, “If I'm being honest, I really don't know. I've never heard her say that anyone has caught her eye. She's hinted that there may be someone, but that was all I've heard. I don't _really_ think she'll admit it to anyone.  
Anders smiled lightly, looking down at his feet.  
“You like her, don't you Blondie?”  
“I feel... it's the right time to try and take things forward with her.” Anders said, nodding slowly, I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned to you that she likes me because I feel like she's made it pretty clear through her flirting that she likes me... maybe she's too shy to take the next step.”  
 _Shy? Hawke?_ Varric thought to himself, holding back a smirk, _What Hawke is he talking about?_  
“Good luck. You'll need it.”  
“You two haven't-.”  
“No, no, no. I just know what she's like.”  
He nodded. “Thanks.”  
“That's what I'm here for. Now, are you sure I can't offer you a drink?.”  
“Maybe tomorrow.”  
“Get home safe then.”

Anders slunk out the door, leaving Varric to his thoughts. He tried to pick up his book where he left off, but his mind was too full, too busy to concentrate.  
 _He'll make her happy and_ _ **that's**_ _the important thing. Maker only knows she needs some happiness._

He rose from his desk and paced around his room, trying to work out his emotions. He knew that he and Hawke would never be together, he'd never been in denial about it, but he'd never considered the possibility of someone coming along with a claim to her affections. She'd just never seemed interested in anyone and that was enough for that little spark of hope to stay in his heart, however impossible it seemed. It just surprised him how much that little spark of hope meant to him. Before he'd even realised it, he found himself at his mirror. He stared at his reflection who was unashamedly staring back.

“I'm not even Hawke's type... am I?” He sighed, “I've never even heard her imply that she'd be with a dwarf.”

He studied his face, weathered and worn compared to Anders' puppy-boy look. _And_ Anders was tall. How could he even compete with _that_?

“They _do_ say that good things come in small packages, though.”  
He chuckled, with a slight tinge of sadness, running his hand through his hair.  
“And my hair? So good that Blondie copied this hairstyle from me. I mean, who wouldn't!”

As fun as all the pretending was, he knew deep down that it would likely never happen. He cherished their friendship far too much to do that and he suspected Hawke to do the same even if she had feelings too.

 

Just then there was a knock at the door. Varric picked up the closest book so to not look suspicious.

“Who is it?”  
“It's me.”  
“I don't know anyone by the name of 'me'.”  
The door opened and Hawke slunk in. He could see her face was riddled with worry lines and paler than usual, even in the dim candle light. It had only been a few hours since he'd last saw her and yet it seemed as if she had aged years.

“Hey... I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”  
She looked at the book in Varric's hand.  
“The Lusty Barmaid, eh?” Hawke chuckled lightly, “I thought your tastes would have been a bit classier!”  
“I'm a man of many tastes Hawke, what can I say?” He placed the book back down and walked towards Hawke, “What is it that's brought you here?”  
“The usual.” Hawke sighed, “Couldn't sleep. I don't even want to let myself sleep anymore. It's not worth it. Plus I finished the book you got me, which was the one thing keeping my exhausted brain sane.”  
“Come on, sit down. Unburden your woes! I can't guarantee I'll stay awake to hear them all though.” Varric joked, half seriously.

They sat opposite each other on Varric's bed, Hawke more of a stranded puppy than a person. Her knees to her chest and her face buried in her folded arms She didn't stop fidgeting, even for a second, as if stopping meant sleep and sleep meant death.

“When was the last time you were actually able to sleep a full night?”  
Hawke sighed and looked up at him, her eyes red and bloodshot.  
“I managed to sleep last night... I think...”  
“ _Other_ than being passed out drunk?”  
“A... few weeks ago? Maybe a month or two now.” She smiled a forced smile that seemed to make her eyes look strained, “It's harder to have a firm grasp on time when you can't sleep.”  
She pushed a laugh out, trying to make her situation seem jovial, funny, not something to worry about, but Varric saw through it.  
“And all this time you haven't been sleeping? I'd thought the other night was a one off.”  
“I wish...”  
“Why didn't you say something?”

She slunk back into her curled up position.  
“I... It's not worth worrying people about...”  
“You worry me more when you don't tell me things!”  
Hawke stayed quiet.  
“Hawke?”  
Still no reply.  
 _Shit._ Thought Varric. _Did I say something wrong?_

He sat in silence, repeating the conversation in his head and trying to gauge Hawke's expression, made more difficult by her face being berried into her knees.  
“I don't want you to be mad with me, I'm just trying to be honest!”  
She sighed and she stopped fidgeting.  
 _Oh Maker's balls, she's going to yell at me, isn't she?_

A snore erupted from Hawke, making Varric jump, but also relieved. He swore she was going to be the death of him someday. He didn't really want to go to sleep now, considering Hawke's record for waking up on the verge of a blind panic. She needed sleep a lot more than he did. Carefully, he helped her lie on her side and pulled the cover over her. He picked up another book, some light reading, and sat back on the bed. He had the feeling that this would be a long night.

  
  


“C...Carver.”  
Varric's eyes shot open. He hadn't even realised that he'd fallen asleep.  
He looked at Hawke, she was beginning to stir in her sleep. It was obvious that something unsavoury was happening. Her hands were twitching and her face scowling.

“Hawke.” Varric uttered softly, stroking her hair out of her face to no effect.  
“No...” She mumbled, louder this time. Her breathing was growing quicker, “....Please...”  
“Hawke!”

He shook her shoulder firmly, taking her from her slumber. Her eyes burst open, staring blankly back at him for a few moments before finally realising she was no longer dreaming.

“I... fell asleep?” She shook her head and sat up, “Shit.”  
“Do you feel any better for it?”  
She scoffed and shook her head. “Do I look it?” She asked, rubbing her eyes.

Her eyes were still slightly bloodshot and her hair was an unimaginable mess, but she didn't look quite so... out of it.  
“Do you want to talk about your dream?”  
Hawke violently shook her head.  
“Noooo. I want that thing as far away from me as possible.” She sighed and looked down.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Varric asked, about to reach a hand to her, but remembering her reaction last time.  
“Well... a hug wouldn't go amiss, if there was one going.”  
Varric smiled warmly, pleasantly surprised, opening his arms. “Of course! Come here.”

Hawke gingerly accepted the embrace. If only he didn't feel like this. He wished he could tell her how he felt, the words aching to spill from his mouth. He closed his eyes and breathed in, savouring the soft touch. He hadn't seen Bianca in so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be physically close to someone like this.

“You're my best friend, Varric. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

That's exactly what he needed to bring his mind back to the ground. _Friend_. He was only a friend to her and while he should appreciate the moments he has with her, she shouldn't let himself get carried away.

  
  


How did Varric make her feel like this? Mere minutes ago she had woken from another panic inducing night terror and yet here she was, feeling as if she was melting into his shoulder. His soft breath tickled her ear lightly and made her feel woozy. Maybe she didn't need alcohol to stay sane anymore. She took one last deep breath and withdrew.

“I should probably go and let you have a sleep. Maker knows how much of it you've lost due to me.”  
“If you don't mind baring the snores you can stay here. I've stacks of books to keep your mind occupied.”  
Hawke was unsure.  
“Even stay for a while?”  
“I guess. I just don't want to outstay my welcome.”  
“If you were then I'd tell you. Personally, I don't think you've stayed long enough.”  
Varric smiled and tilted his head, encouragingly. How could she say no to that face?  
“Okay.” She sighed, neither of them able to keep a smile from their faces.  
“I apologise that I won't be the best of company, but wake me if you need anything. _Honestly._ ”

Hawke stood up and stretched her arms, freezing half way through.  
“You wouldn't have anything comfortable to wear, would you?”  
“Like what?”  
“Anything that doesn't dig into my ribcage quite as bad as my armour.”  
“Oh, emm...” He mumbled, rising to his feet and rummaging through his drawers, “I have an old tunic, will that do?”

Hawke took it off his hands and looked at it.  
“Avert your eyes, please!”  
He turned around and hid his face in his book.

The tunic fit well, if a little loosely around the shoulders. It could almost be considered a dress though. _Almost_. She couldn't pull it off as unbuttoned as Varric would, not unless she wanted him to have an eyeful. Not that she wanted him to. Not at all.  
“What do you think?”  
Varric turned back around and looked up at her, eyebrows raised.  
“Yeah, I know... gold isn't really my colour.”

She slipped into bed and proceeded to fluff up the pillows.  
“Comfy yet, princess?”  
“Hey! This is how I like to sleep! It's a novelty having more than one pillow, anyway. And that one pillow not being full of straw.”  
“You didn't seem so bothered when you were passed out drunk.”  
“Then _that's_ why. If I was unable to take my own damned shoes off then I sure as heck can't arrange pillows how I want them.”

She rolled onto her back, put her hands behind her head and wriggled a little, getting comfy for the night.

“I hate to admit it, but you almost look better than I do in that.”  
“I was going to be flattered until I heard that 'almost'.”  
“Sorry to disappoint you, but you should know by now that no-one looks better in these than _I_ do.”

Varric lay down on his side to face Hawke and pulled his covers over himself.

“This feels a little like a sleep-over.”  
“So there's a name in Fereldan for sleeping over at someone's house?”  
“Well... kinda, I guess. When I was younger I always dreamed about being allowed to stay at my friends' houses. I was never allowed... you know, with my father and sister being apostates and all...” She tailed off and lay down too  
“So what would happen at these _sleep-overs_?”  
“Apparently you would read stories to each other and gossip about things. It was a very-” she raised her fingers to imitate quotation marks, “ _girly_ experience.”

“I learn new things about you every day, Hawke!” Varric chuckled, “I would never have guessed that you would have enjoyed anything that could be considered in any way feminine.”

“I'm just full of surprises.” She grinned, “There are things that I'll never tell, even to you!”  
“Oh, now you're just teasing.” Varric complained, jokingly elbowing Hawke.

_I should probably enjoy this while it lasts._ He thought to himself. _Once Anders swoops in and woos her there won't really be as much of this to look forward to._  
“You okay, Varric?”  
“Just tired.” He sighed, “You mind if I go to sleep now?”  
“Don't let me keep you up!” She said, rising to blow out the candles, “Goodnight.”  
“Night.”

Hawke silently blew out all of the candles in the room.   
_She's definitely using her stealth skills to do that so quietly._ He thought to himself.  
Varric lay in silence, eyes closed, listening to the gentle ruccus from downstairs and the soft breathing of Hawke as she began falling asleep.

“You're just... not my type.” Her voice echoed in his ear, “...not my type.”  
 _Why did I get my hopes up? Why didn't I realise? Why didn't I stop myself?_

Every time she smiled, he couldn't help but share her joy. When she was sad … The thought of her with anyone else filled him with a bittersweet ache. So familiar, yet so new. It made him uncomfortable, yet he didn't want to be without. He knew himself that he couldn't be with her, but that was so much better than losing her forever. She was like a cloud, soft and welcoming. Her smile like the sun. A warm breeze-

“MAKER!” Hawke cried, sitting bolt upright.  
“What?” Varric groaned, trying to rub his eyes awake.  
“Sorry! Sorry... I didn't mean to wake you. I didn't even mean to fall asleep...”  
“Hawke?” He asked, sitting up, “ You okay?”  
“Just a night terror... that's all.”  
“Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head violently and lay back down, curled into a ball, knees to her chest and arms curled around her knees. Her face was stony and unreadable, which was made even more difficult to figure out in the darkness of the room.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
She shook her head, “I just want to go back to sleep... if I can manage it.”  
“Okay.” He sighed, reaching a hand over to stroke her hair, but he thought about it a second too long and withdrew.  
“Goodnight.”  
“Night.”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramaaaaa~~~~
> 
> Sorry this chapter was up late, life it pretty hectic right now -_- Next chapter up the 4th of December


	6. Chapter 6

“Why do you have to do this to me, Sis?” Bethany cried, storming into the room.

Hawke set down her book and sat up in her bed. Bethany just _had_ to interrupt a critical moment.

“Huh?”  
“Anders!”  
“I know him!”  
“Oh don't play stupid.”  
“Well then I must be! Please enlighten me.”  
“You took Anders from me!”  
Hawke felt her blood run cold in her veins.  
“What!?”  
“Well he certainly seems to think that he has some kind of claim to your affections... as you do his.”  
“Haah...” Hawke mumbled, thinking back to some of the raunchier comments made in his direction.  
_I knew they would come back to bite me._  
“And you _know_ I like him. You taunt me about it constantly, which I can just about deal with. But this. _Really,_ sis?”  
“Bethany, I don't know where he got the idea that I want anything serious with him.”  
“So you _have_ done... things with him? Just not serious things... to you anyway. Does he know you're not taking things seriously?”  
“Bethany, calm down! I wouldn't fuck him if he was the last man on earth.”  
“That's just... UUGH!”  
_Shit, that sounded better in my head._

Bethany scowled and stormed away, slamming the door behind her. Hawke couldn't help but be surprised that it was still on its hinges after that. She had hoped to give Varric a break from her, but there wasn't much other option. Sighing, she made her way over to the Hanged Man.

  


“And then she slammed the door on my face.” Hawke sighed, taking another massive bite of her sandwich. Blood sausage, of course.  
Varric leaned in, taking in all the information. The Hanged Man was especially busy that day due to the summer markets, but they'd still decided to take their conversation downstairs. For Varric's sanity more than anything else, due to the overwhelming amount of paperwork he'd been doing in preparation for the Deep Roads.

“It's been pretty obvious he likes you, Hawke.”  
“I know... after you told me that I started thinking about it and I noticed the way he acted around me.” She took a long drink from her tankard, “Shit.”  
“And he came to speak to me about you the other night as well.”  
“Maker, no...” Hawke sighed, rubbing her head. “What was it about?”  
“He asked if you liked anyone.”  
“And what did you say?”  
“The truth. I have no idea. You've hinted that there's someone, but you're guarding that secret pretty close.”  
_Thank fuck that's all he knows.  
_ “You sure I can't tempt you to tell me who it is?”  
Hawke shook her head, her face purposefully hidden by her tankard.  
“If I didn't know any better then I'd think you'd fallen for this silver tongued dwarf right here.”  
_Shit shit shit shit shit._

She lowered the tankard and flashed him a saucy smile.  
“Okay, okay... I admit it. It's the chest hair. I just can't resist!”  
He chuckled before sighing comically, his hand to his chest,“It's a burden I must bear!”

 _Thank the maker for a well placed joke._  
Hawke took a final bite of her sandwich, mulling over her choices.

“So... let me get this straight.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead to try to rid her month-long headache, “Anders is in love with me.”  
“And you're going to have to speak to the both of them to get anything sorted out.”  
“Well, shit.” Hawke sighed, signalling for another, stronger drink.  
“Hey! That's my phrase!”

  


Hawke and Varric trundled to Darktown, uneager to deal with the drama

“Hey there, I'll be with you two in just a minute.” Anders said, without even turning around.

He finished speaking to a patient before he nodded, handed them a vial and reminded them about the donation box. He invited Hawke and Varric over, but Varric stood where he was.

“Anders.” Hawke began, walking up to him, focusing a little too much on walking in a straight line to be _really_ considered sober, “I've been hearing that you find me 'captivating'.”  
He blushed and his eyes darted around the room and walked towards the back of the clinic, away from prying ears and eyes.  
“I... I do think you're very worthy of praise and... you _are_ very attractive. I thought with some of the words you said to me over the past year that... maybe you felt the same?”  
Hawke shook her head and sighed.  
“No...”  
He looked as if he had just seen something awful happen to Ser-Pounce-A-Lot.  
“But I thought you-”  
“I flirt with people, Anders, it's what I do!”  
“Couldn't you have warned me?”  
Hawke shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

“I'm sorry... I really am. I'm shit at dealing with people... with relationships.”  
“I'll say.”  
“Anyway...” She sighed, convinced these words would get her in worse trouble soon, “...Bethany likes you. I wouldn't want her thinking that I've stolen you from her.”  
“She does!?”  
“You of all people would be able to understand what her life has been like as an apostate.”  
“I had no idea...”  
“Because you were so busy lusting after me.”  
“I... I'll stop trying to pursue you then. But...” He sighed and looked away, “If there's ever a time when you decide that I may be who you're looking for... you know where to find me.”  
Hawke patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for still being my friend.”  
He nodded. “I should get back to my work.”  
“See you later.” Hawke said, turning to Varric with a thumbs up.

_One down, one to go._

  


Hawke found Bethany sulking on the floor in their room at Gamlen's house. Varric and Hawke decided that it would be best for Varric to once again stay out of it.

“Hey, sis.” Hawke sighed, walking up to Bethany.  
“I'm not speaking to you.” Bethany growled, turning her back to her.  
“Please, just hear me out!”  
“Oh, let me guess, you tipped off the Templars and now they're coming to get me.” She sneered sarcastically, “Ha ha ha.”

Hawke sighed and sat beside Bethany, who shuffled away slightly.

“I spoke to Anders.”  
“Oh?”  
“I told him I wasn't interested...”  
Bethany stayed quiet, avoiding Hawke's gaze.  
“ _And_ I apologised.”  
“Well, that's more than I thought you'd ever do to be honest.” Bethany mumbled.  
“I'm not _that_ bad!”  
“Oh really? The woman who paraded herself in front of Anders and then shot him down as soon as he started having feelings?”  
“It's not like that! I just... flirt with people for fun.” Hawke sighed, rubbing her forehead.  
“And how's _that_ working for you?”  
“I have my reasons, you know.”  
“You just said. For fun. Is being a decent person too boring for you?”  
“It's because...” She scratched the back of her neck, “...also because I've never really been intimate with anyone before.” She continued, cringing at her own words, “I try to ignore that fact by flirting with people.”  
“Really?” Bethany asked, sceptically, “All that advice you gave me then? All those stories?”  
“From Isabela, books or overheard in the Hanged Man.”  
“Oh, Maker! Thank goodness I've never had reason to take your advice then!  
She sat in silence, letting the information sink in.  
“I hadn't realised... But what about that worker at the Blooming Rose you liked? What was his name?”  
“Jethann?”  
“Yeah, him!”  
“I... I couldn't go through with it. I just pretended I did.”  
“Oh...”  
“He was really nice about it actually. I doubt he would have minded, he got his coin either way.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I guess... I'm sorry for all the times I've made fun of you.”  
“I'll only take that apology if you promise you won't ridicule me so bad any more.”  
“I promise. If I ever go too far then you have my permission to smack me on the head.”  
“I'll _gladly_ do that.” Bethany cracked a bit of a smile, before it faded. “Did you say anything about me? To Anders I mean.”  
“I mentioned that you liked him and he seemed surprised, but he didn't seem interested.” Hawke said, placing her hand on Bethany's shoulder.  
Bethany shrugged and nodded, “I guessed as much. The way you were talking almost made me think that there was someone that _you_ liked though.”

Hawke inhaled sharply and bit her tongue.

“ _Is_ there someone? There _is_ , isn't there?”  
“Varric.” She muttered, hiding her face.  
“What? I didn't quite catch that.”  
“Varric.”

Bethany drew her hand to her mouth, half shocked, half smiling uncontrollably.  
“Varric!?” She squealed, “Now you're just pulling my leg!”  
“No...”  
“Really?”  
“Yes...”  
Bethany kicked her legs in delight, squealing almost inaudibly.  
“But his crossbow!?”  
“What about her?”  
“I just... does he know? Are you two an item?”  
Hawke shook her head and sighed, a bitter-sweet look on her face.  
“I'd rather not mess up the friendship that we have.”  
“Of all the people... I never guessed he was your type!”  
“He's not... not really. I just... I don't know.” Hawke mumbled, trying to scramble words together to describe how she felt, her heart pounding at the mere thought of him, “I don't even know if I _have_ a type... Maker, I didn't even realise how much I've been crushing on him until I stopped to think about it.”  
“When _did_ you realise?”  
“I... I don't even know. I almost wish I didn't feel like this.”  
Hawke scratched the back of her neck, face rapidly turning pink.  
“Well... If its any consolation then I had no idea you like him. I don't think anyone knows, even him!”  
“He has no idea... unless he really _is_ a good liar like he wants people to believe. I think we're the closest a friendship can get before it goes into the realm of the non-platonic.”  
“And is that your goal?”  
“I don't even know. If it happens, it happens. I'm quite happy letting this simmer until it dies out and then pretending these feelings never existed. It's better this way I think.”  
“Are you sure you want that? Would it really be so bad just to tell him your feelings?”  
“Yes.”  
“Really?”  
“I don't want things to change between us. It wouldn't be worth it. I swear sometimes he's the only thing keeping me sane.”

Bethany held her arms out for a hug and Hawke accepted the embrace.

“Let's not let things get between us again, Bethany.”  
“I couldn't agree more.”  
“And before I forget, I have something for you!”  
“Oh?”  
Hawke went into her backpack and produced the deep pink robe that Bethany had been looking at.  
“You... actually got it for me?”  
“You doubted me?”  
“I don't even want to know how much it cost.”  
“The price of it made me want to dive head-first into the Hanged Man.” She saw the look on Bethany's face, “But it's worth it to see you happy.  
“Thank you, though.”  
“If your big sister can't look out for you then who can?”  
“Who looks out for _you_ then, sis?”  
She waved her hand and shook her head, “I can handle my own problems.”  
“I guess I'll have to take your word on it then. How are you feeling about the Deep Roads? Two days from now you'll already be gone.”  
“Don't... I don't want to think about it right now. At least you have something to wear to my funeral if anything happens there.”  
“Don't joke about that! I can't bare the thought... ” She noticed Hawke biting her lip, “You're regretting it, aren't you?”  
“I can't exactly go back on my words, I couldn't do that to Varric, especially with all this preparation he's been doing. So many trade agreements... Sometimes I worry he's more parchment than dwarf. Plus... I want Mother's manor back. I want us to have money.”  
“There's other ways to make money.”  
“Not the amount we need... and not as quickly as we need it. The Templars are cracking down, I don't know how much longer I can keep you safe.”  
“I can keep myself safe, you know!”  
“I know you can, but with Father gone...”  
“We'll be fine. We always have been, this will be no different.”  
“I hope you're right.”  
“I usually am.”  
“Now, can I treat you to dinner somewhere?”  
“You're going to suggest the Hanged Man, aren't you?”  
“If you insist!”  
“Wait, I didn't-”  
“Too late!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter (as usual) but I can't delay posting it much longer. I'm glad to have been able to show Hawke and Bethany's relationship dynamics. A little funny trivia, Bethany's initial reaction to Hawke's confession about Varric was pretty much exactly how my girlfriend reacted when I told her I had a massive crush on him. Bear in mind we were both pretty pissed at the time ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I found it a little challenging as I don't have a sister, but I did my best!  
> Sorry it's up late, I've been moving house and working on another DA fanfic (which will probably be ready to be posted in the new year woohoo!)
> 
> Next chapter should be up 18th of December  
> Thanks for reading!!


	7. Chapter 7

“To the safe return of our friends!” Merrill cried, raising her glass of water.  
“Cheers!” The table cried in unison.  
“To the unimaginable riches we'll find!” Cried Bartrand.  
A less enthusiastic cheer came from the table.

No-one quite knew _why_ Bartrand was there. He'd basically invited himself, much to Varric's dismay.  
“What kind of establishment doesn't have lichen beer?” Bartrand muttered once again, this time loud enough to annoy the staff.  
“Because it's shit!” Someone called back.

“So, are you going to announce your final decision on who's coming with us?” Varric asked.  
“Anders.” She said, looking over at him, “He's a good healer and he already has experience of the Deep Roads.”  
Anders face twisted into a pretty grotesque look and he muttered something under his breath.

“Who else then?” Varric asked, “We have supplies for one more person.”  
“Fenris.”  
“Oh great, I have to survive the Deep Roads with the mage and his _thing_.”  
“Justice _has_ a name, you know!”  
“If you two are going to bicker the whole time then I can just bring other people you know!” Hawke sighed, already regretting the decision, “I can get Aveline or Merrill to come instead!”

They both looked away, took sips of their drinks and stopped talking.

“Anyone for a last game of Wicked Grace?”  
“Let me get my chair closer to the table!” Isabela moaned, “I can barely reach it as it is. The table isn't made for this many people.” She shot a glance at Bartrand who was obliviously wrinkling his nose at the thought of playing cards.  
“What about you, Brother?” Varric asked, looking up from his shuffling.  
“Deal me in.” Bartrand eventually sighed.

It only took a few rounds for everyone to realise that Bartrand was in fact, _extremely_ easy to play against. Even Merrill did better, tipsy on sips of Isabela's whiskey.

“I'll start off this round with fifty silvers!” Merrill chirrped, gleefully placing her coins onto the middle of the table, “I'm feeling rather confident after the last round!”  
Isabela rolled her eyes and threw a few sovereigns over, a familiar smirk over her face  
“You're rather confident there, Rivaini.” Varric smirked, watching Isabela's face to see if she was bluffing. “I'll bet...” He looked at his cards and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I'll match you, Rivaini.” He sighed, tossing a few more sovereigns in.  
“I'll never understand how you all could bet so much...” Bartrand grumbled, throwing in a few coppers, “There's no use in wasting good coin.”  
“You're not wasting coin if you know you're going to win.” Varric smirked.

With everyone's bets in the middle, the round could really begin. Somehow, Bartrand was completely oblivious to the hints that no-one wanted his obnoxious commentary.

“You know, it's nice to have someone new to play against...” Hawke mumbled into Varric's ear, “If only he wasn't so bloody arrogant.”  
“Once upon a time he was almost bearable, but he doesn't have anyone to play with anymore.” Varric grinned back, showing her a winning hand, “This'll teach him for trying to take my friends.”  
“Oi!” Isabela yelled, “No cheating, you two!”  
“What, so _you_ can have the advantage of being the only one cheating?”  
“Who said she was the only one?” Fenris grumbled, with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Angel of death, everyone.” Anders cried, holding up the card.  
Everyone groaned and showed their hands. Much to Varric's dismay, he _didn't_ have the best hand.

“Well, I have no wish to lose any more coin tonight.” Bartrand sneered, shooting a look to Isabela, who was gathering her earnings.

Varric leaned into Hawke's ear and whispered, “You staying at mine?”  
She bit her lip to stop herself reacting to the soft tickle of his warm breath on her neck. The alcohol running through her veins was making it hard to give the answer she needed to, but she managed to shake her head.  
“I should really stay at Gamlen's tonight. Especially as I won't be there for a while.”  
“Fair enough.”

“Varric!” Bartrand called over, “Come over here for a minute!”  
“Sure, Brother.” He sighed, rising out of his seat and joining him away from his crowd of friends.

“You and that human.”  
“Hawke? What about her?”  
“What's going on with you two?”  
He spluttered for a moment, taken aback by his brother's bluntness. He should have seen it coming, really.  
“Mother and Father would have been furious if they knew you were fraternizing with a human.”  
“I assure you, Brother, our relationship is purely business and friendship.”  
Bartrand gave him an icy glare that sent a chill down Varric's spine. He hated how intense Bartrand's judgemental looks were, especially as he had Mother's piercing blue eyes.  
“You're sweet on her though.”  
 _Shit. Was it that obvious?_  
“I have Bianca, Brother.”  
“She doesn't do you credit either.” He turned to face the door, “I'll see you tomorrow.” Bartrand sneered, “Don't be late.”

And with that he turned away and left the Hanged Man. Varric walked back over to the table, a smile painted onto his face.  
“Another round to celebrate Bartrand fucking off!” Varric cried over to Norah.  
The table cheered and Varric sat back down beside Hawke and picked up his new hand.  
“What was that about?”  
“Bartrand being Bartrand.” He sighed.  
“Fair enough. You're the only one that hasn't put a bet in yet.”

  
  


The celebrations went long into the night. No-one seemed to want to leave. Even if no-one said it, they were all thinking about the fact that this could be the last time that the gang were all together.

It was past midnight by the time Varric stumbled up the stairs and into his suite.

 _I shouldn't expect Hawke to come over but..._ He went to his bookshelf and picked out a favourite of his, _If she does, she'll need something to read if she doesn't feel like sleeping._

He placed it on the table beside her usual chair and got into bed.

The bed somehow felt so empty without Hawke there. Had she really spent _that_ much time here? He wished he could hear her witty banter, the random conversations they'd have late into the night. No matter how he tossed and turned, he couldn't stop worrying about Hawke.

 _Is she sleeping alright? Is she having another night terror?_ He thought to himself, rubbing his eyes, _Probably._

  
  


Heart pounding. Cold sweat. Body trembling. Another fucking night terror.

Instinctively, she reached a hand out, half expecting to feel Varric sleeping beside her, yet all she found was the wall. Somehow having Varric there, whether he was concious or not, just helped her calm down a little faster, helped her process her emotions.

_How am I going to cope in the Deep Roads? That isn't the place to have a nightmare, that place **is** a nightmare... Andraste preserve me. And what is this racket coming from below me? Is there a mabari in here or has Bethany's snoring got worse?_

_BETHANY. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.  
_ Hawke sat up in bed, seething. Her eyes were so heavy and yet she hadn't been able to close them for more than a second.  
 _How many hours has it been now? I don't even want to know..._

She looked over at the door. It was awfully tempting to go to Varric's, but they would be spending a lot of time together starting tomorrow. Even more than usual. She creaked down her ladder onto the floor and quietly fumbled for a drink. She didn't want to punch her sister but she feared she would without one.

 _Maker, even the Hanged Man's worst would do me right now. Aha!  
_ She found a bottle! Opening it, she smelled what it could be. Wine? Something fruity at least. She sat down and took a few swigs from the bottle.  
 _Just what I needed.  
_ After a few more swigs, she creaked the bedroom door open to check no-one was there before heading into the main room. The fire was still lit, which was strange, sending ominous shadows across the room. Hawke's breath caught in her throat as she noticed a shadow in the corner of the room.  
 _WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?  
_ An ominous figure paced back and forth, muttering rushed, yet soft words.  
 _Mother? Is she sleepwalking?_

Hawke tried to listen into the words, but they were too hushed for her to decipher. She may as well could have been speaking elven. She couldn't even see her face as she kept it covered with her hands.  
 _Shit. What do I do?_

Before she had time to consider her options, she approached the door and Hawke lurched out of the way, hoping the darkness of the room would cloak her enough. Thankfully it did and she went in and lay down on her bed. Once the room was still and she could at least assume that her mother was asleep, she creaked out the door and sat in the living room. She brought the bottle with her, of course, and savoured what could quite possibly be the last taste of wine she would ever taste.

For all she knew, she may not even make it out of the Deep Roads alive.

  
  


The next morning Hawke made her way to the Hanged Man nice and early. As in only a few hours after the crack of dawn. Having a little alcohol in her system helped her get a few more hours sleep before the night terrors shook her awake. She had had quite enough of Bethany's snoring by the time the seagulls were audible... and they were always audible, no matter where in the city you were.

She pushed her way through the door and flagged down whoever was on the bar.  
“What can I get you?”  
She took out her collection of hip flasks and scattered them across the bar and placed a silver on the counter too, for good measure.  
“Four blood sausage sandwiches and the strongest shit you have for these.”  
“Coming up.”

It was going to be a long day, a long week... a long _few_ weeks, even, and she definitely wasn't in denial about that. Once that first matter was taken care of, she walked up the stairs to go pester Varric.

“You up?” She yelled through the door.  
“I am now, I guess.” She heard him murmur through the door.

A few moments later, Varric appeared at the door, dishevelled and a little frustrated.  
“Can I come in?” She asked, sliding past him into his suite and plopping herself down on the table. She was done with trying to sit on the awkward furniture. It was unfit for human use if you asked her.  
“What was the point in asking?” He asked, looking at her exasperatedly.  
“To make it seem like you had a choice in the matter.”

He sighed and made his way back to the bedroom. She swung her legs to and fro, waiting for him to emerge. She noticed a book beside her butt.  
“Can I read this book?” She asked, already reading the first page.  
“You can take it to the expedition if you feel so inclined.”  
“I'd feel bad if anything happened to it though.”  
“I could always get another. Money won't be a worry when this is over. Not that it is at the moment for me.”

Varric appeared, clothed but still unshaven.  
“I take it you're going to be a while.”  
“This is going to be my last shave in the comfort of my suite so I'll be damned if I don't savour it.”  
“I'll head downstairs. I'll probably have my breakfast waiting by now.”  
“The usual?”  
“Would I ever have anything different?”  
“You know there is something called variety. It's apparently quite a good thing to have in your diet.”  
“It sounds atrocious!” She cried, hopping off the table, book under her arm, heading towards the door, “I'll see you downstairs!”

“I take it this is your doing?” She heard Anders call out as she reached the bottom of the stairs.  
When she approached she noticed he was eating a sandwich. One of _her_ sandwiches.  
 _If he wasn't a dear friend of mine doing me a very generous favour then he'd have a swift kick to the head right now.  
_ She gave him a restrained nod. _  
_“Thanks.” He smiled, “I can't remember the last time I had a hot meal that wasn't stew made of... Maker only knows what.”  
 _Maker, I can't exactly admit that they were all for me when he just said that...._  
“I'll get more if you want it.” She waved over to the bar staff, pocketing her hip flasks as she did so, “Another few sandwiches and a tankard please!”

Fenris appeared soon after the extra sandwiches and tankard arrived.  
“I take it you're filling up on these while you can?”  
Hawke nodded, mouth too full to be able to even grunt in acknowledgement. Even she could admit she'd bitten off more than she could chew.  
“Help... yourself...” She mumbled, trying to swallow her over full mouthful. “Oh!... And before I forget!”  
She produced a sword she had hidden cleverly under the table and handed it to Fenris.  
“I promised you a new sword.”

He took the sword and admired the blade, his face as close to astonished as he could possibly get.  
“Got some runes enchanted onto it. It's extra effective against darkspawn too.”  
“You really didn't have to.”  
“I appreciate you coming with me. It's the least I could do. And Anders, I donated the money I would have spent on a staff for you to your clinic. As per your wishes.”  
“Thank you.”

Varric soon joined the group, cleanly shaven, rather handsomely so. Many, many sandwiches and a tankard now in her stomach, Hawke led the group up to Hightown. It wasn't long before others began appearing.

“Be careful out there, sis.”  
“You worry too much! I'll only be facing possibly hundreds of darkspawn. What's the worst that could happen? Maybe I die?”  
“That's not something to joke about! You could become a broodmother!”  
“I'm still not convinced they really exist. But it'd be worth it to keep you safe.”  
“Now you're just going to make me cry.” Bethany sighed, her face screwed up.

She looked just like she did before Hawke would into the forests looking for food, back many, many years ago now. Except this was more dangerous than facing the odd wolf. Hawke reached her arms around Bethany and pulled her in for a hug.

“Don't you dare do anything stupid or heroic down there.” Bethany spoke, trying to sound threatening, “I'd much rather have an untrue story from Varric than another dead sibling.”  
“Untrue?” Varric called out, “When are my stories of Hawke ever untrue? Embellished maybe, but never untrue!”  
“And that's why _you_ are the storyteller and not me.” Bethany sighed, finally releasing Hawke from the vice-like hug.  
“Don't worry, Sunshine. I'll hold her back from running head-first into a darkspawn lair.”  
A weak smile appeared amongst the tears, “Thanks, Varric.”  
“And don't _you_ do anything stupid to get yourself caught.” Hawke pretended to scold Bethany, who shot her a deathly glare.  
“All I'll be doing is helping out in Anders' clinic so the refugees will still have some magical help while I'm away.”   
“I appreciate it greatly, Bethany.” Anders chipped in, a bright smile on his face, “I feel a lot better going knowing that the clinic is in good hands.”  
“It's my pleasure.” She said, smiling at him. Hawke couldn't help but notice the blush in her cheeks and feel bad for her.  
 _I know exactly what it's like to have feelings for someone that you'd rather just went away._

“Hawke!” Merrill cried, running over.  
“Merrill! No need to worry, we're not leaving right now. Still waiting for a few people.”  
“I-I have something for you!”  
She rummaged in her pocket and produced a small amulet attached to a thin, sturdy rope.  
“This is my lucky amulet. I haven't been mugged while wearing it so I hope some of it's luck can come in handy down there.”  
“But you _haven't_ been mugged, have you?”  
“No, thanks to the amulet!””  
 _She still hasn't got the hint that the thing stopping her from getting mugged was Varric... not an amulet. It's sweet none the less though.  
_ “Thank you. I'll make sure to keep it safe and you'll get it back when we do.”

Hawke could hear the unmistakable sound of Isabela flirting. At least she managed to make it out of her bed early enough to be able to say goodbye.

“That's a nice sword you got there, Fenris.” She smirked, admiring the blade almost taller than he was, “I've seen bigger though.”  
“It's not the size of the sword, Isabela. It's about how you use it.”  
“I'd like to know how you use your sword.”  
“But you've seen Fenris fight with a sword before, Isabela! Or... was that something dirty?” Merrill asked, head tilted.  
“Oh, kitten...” Isabela cooed.

“Hawke?” A stern voice broke through the racket, “Please stay safe down there.”  
“Don't worry, Aveline! I'll be fine. And we'll be back before you know it.”  
“You better be.” She sighed.  
“Oh and Isabela?”  
“Yes, sweetie?”  
“Make sure Aveline's kept busy while I'm away. Someone needs to take my place as local troublemaker.”  
“Please don't.” Avelive sighed, exasperatedly, “I'd much rather have some extra time to deal with my new duties.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bartrand approaching. She cast a look to Varric who was walking over to his brother, pulling him aside for a chat. Hawke's stomach was churning and her palms felt clammy.  
 _Why in Maker's name did I agree to do this again? The Deep Roads? Of all places?  
_ “This is it.” Hawke sighed, “That'll be us leaving soon.”  
“Good luck, sis.” Bethany spoke, squeezing her arm.  
More words of encouragement and hope followed, but they went in one ear and out the other. How could she focus with... all this _stuff_ going on in her head?

With everyone seeming to be here and accounted for, Varric walked back over.  
“Bartrand's going to do a speech.” He snorted, “This is going to be riveting, I'm sure.” He turned his head to give her a cheeky smile, but it slowly disappeared. “Hey, are you okay?”  
“Oh yeah, fine, fine....” She sighed, giving him the best smile she could muster up, “Wait, he's giving a speech? Maker help us all, do you have anything I can shove in my ears?”  
“We've chosen one of the hidden entrances.” Bartrand;s booming voice began, as he paced back and forth, “The Deep Roads there will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering.”  
“Now there's an interesting image.”  
Hawke nodded, hiding her face with her hand and groaning.  
 _Please don't talk about virginal things._  
“It'll take a week to get to the depths we need, and there are bound to be leftover darkspawn from the blight. Big risks, big rewards!”  
“Risks, rewards – What could be better?”  
“Exactly! Now, before we... wait. Who invited the old woman?”

Hawke turned her head to see Mother, out of breath and panting.  
“I'm sorry to interrupt, ser dwarf, but I need to speak to my children.”  
“Oh great, this can't be good.” Hawke muttered to herself, walking over.  
“Mother,” Bethany sighed, “I _told_ you not to get involved with this!”  
“I just want to know one thing, are you planning on taking Bethany with you?”  
“No, Mother-”  
“Oh, thank the Maker! If something had happened to her then...” She shook her head, turning to Bethany, “I'm just glad you're going to be safe, dear.”  
 _Yes, yes, thank the Maker that_ _ **Bethany**_ _isn't risking her life for a better future for her family._  
Bethany gave her one last look and headed off with Mother.  
“Stay safe.” She reminded as she walked past.  
“You too.”  
“Personal drama over with?” He scoffed, “Then let's get underway.”

She walked back to the group, hoping to speak to Varric, but he walked towards Bartrand instead.  
“It's been a long time coming, eh, Brother?” Varric smiled.  
“That it has.”

The group gathered their belongings and set off. Hawke gave one last look to the friends she was leaving behind and the friends she was taking with her.  
“The Deep Roads await!” Bartrand yelled back to the group, who erupted into cheers around Hawke.  
 _Maker help me._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuuugh the Deep Roads.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, peeps! Keeping motivated to write this fic has been a bit difficult, especially with all the rush of Christmas, moving house and the other fic I've been working on. Still determined to have it coming out every other week.  
> Speaking of, I'm hoping to get the next chapter out on Christmas (a week away, AAAAAAAA) as a little present to you all.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Hawke was taking a moment for herself, resting after the long day, which was now part of a long week away from home. She sat at the edge of the group, watching the others as they prepared the rations, chatted and drank amongst themselves.

It was nice to be alone with her thoughts, but even so, she definitely didn't mind when Varric sat himself down beside her.

“How are you feeling?” He sighed, carefully placing Bianca beside him.  
She didn't realise how badly she was biting her lip until she had to stop to speak.  
“Fucking exhausted is an understatement. You?”  
“Good, considering. I take it you didn't sleep well last night, then?”  
“When do I ever? You know I can't sleep without my favourite teddy bear... who just happens to be a dwarf!”

They both chuckled, but Hawke prayed he wouldn't realise how forced her laugh was.  
_Shit. I did_ _ **not**_ _mean to say that. You've basically just... Ugh, just change the subject..._

“So this is our last night above ground for a while then?”  
“We should reach the entrance about tomorrow afternoon. So... yeah. Enjoy the sky while you still can.”

She looked up at the far away, red tinted clouds and sighed. Her eyes were heavy, but this wasn't the time to sleep yet. _  
_ She leaned her head onto his shoulder to hide her rapidly appearing blush from her cheeks. Quietly, she took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes.

_Maker only knows what I'd do without him. Well... I wouldn't be on this damned expedition without him, that's what._

Opening her eyes, she saw Bartrand at the other side of the camp looking straight at them. He shook his head and mumbled something. Probably wasn't anything important.

  


_Nughumping Cloudgazers._

He knew exactly what his brother said. He knew him well enough to know that those would have been the words from his lips.  
_How **dare** he. He doesn't know Hawke! To him, she's just another human, but she's anything but!  
_ He sighed and fought to keep his face calm. He wasn't going to let Bartrand get to him. Or at least he wasn't going to let him know that he got to him.

Hawke shuffled a little, leaning onto his shoulder even more. He swore his shoulder was going to fall off, but he didn't mind. His whole arm could fall off for all he cared. Well, that was maybe an exaggeration, but was never happier than when he was with Hawke. He almost felt bad for Bartrand for throwing away the life he could have had, the friends and love he lost in search of satisfying his insatiable greed... until he remembered that it was all his own damn fault.

A small snore came from Hawke and Varric was taken by surprise and his heart pounded. At the other side of the camp, he could see Anders coming over with three plates of food .

“Is she okay?” He asked, worry lines a little more visible than usual.  
He nodded slowly and accepted the plate from Anders. He could see the hurt on his friend's face but he had to ignore it. He _wanted_ to apologize for Hawke preferring him for emotional comfort, but truth be told, he'd feel exactly the same as Anders if she went to anyone else.

“Deep Roads tomorrow then, Blondie.”  
“Yeah. I was so happy escaping the Wardens, to think that I would never have to return to that Maker forsaken place.” He stared out in front of him, face fallen, “No matter how prepared you think you are for that place... It's never enough. Even if it's your first... or your hundredth time.”

Varric took a hesitant bite of his lichen bread and cured meat sandwich.  
“It would certainly help morale to have some decent food.”  
“That wasn't possible with Bartrand in charge of the food supplies. His idea of cuisine is the finest Orzammar has to offer, which is...” He looked down, “...It's barely edible.”

Anders looked over at Hawke, longingly. He didn't even bother hiding his affections when she wasn't aware.  
“I know exactly what she's going to say when she sees her dinner.”  
“She's going to hold up the camp at knife-point and demand a blood sausage sandwich.” He chuckled lightly.  
“Is there-” He cleared his throat, although he kept his voice low, “Have you heard who it is that Hawke likes?”  
“No...” He sighed.  
_I almost don't want to know.  
Maker, that sounds so selfish._

Hawke stirred slightly and shivered a little. Before Varric could even react, Anders swept his coat off and around Hawke's shoulders. Varric listened to her, looking out for signs of night terrors.

“Are you going to be okay, Blondie? It's not exactly Summer any more.”  
“I'll be fine. I'll just... move closer to the fire.”

And with that he rose to his feet and found himself a space in front of the roaring camp fire.

 _He's pining after her like a lost dog._ Varric thought to himself, as he watched Anders' steely face stare intently into the fire, feeling a pang of guilt in his stomach.

Hesitantly, he held is breath and finished the rest of his rations. He had no rose-tinted nostalgia for this kind of food.

The group held light chatters around the roaring fire. The sky wasn't even fully dark and yet people were already beginning to turn in for the night. Others seemed more intent to share personal alcohol rations, stories and songs.

“WHAT!?” Hawke suddenly cried, sitting bolt upright.  
“Hawke?”  
She gave him a confused look.  
“Bad dream?”  
“No... It just felt so real...”  
“Dare I ask?”  
“So I was buying a dress from the Hanged Man...” She noticed his amused look, “Yeah, I know. Of all places! And you were there... And...” She looked at her shoulders, even more confused, “...Anders was there?”  
“Don't worry. He came over to check up on you and you were cold so he let you have it.”  
“I'm going to have to give it back. Look at him! He needs this way more than I do!”

She pointed to him, barely moving other than shivering, knees to his chest, making as little conversation with the other people in the expedition as possible.

She approached him and kneeled beside him.  
“Hey.”  
“Oh. Feeling better?”  
“Yeah. Thanks.” She handed his coat over, “Here's your coat back by the way.”  
“Thanks.” He sighed, putting it back on.  
“Are you doing okay?”  
He nodded a little to quickly, before the words had properly left Hawke's lips.  
“You don't really... seem okay. Do you want some company?”  
He shook his head, “No need, I'm heading to bed.” He stood up and began walking towards the piles of bedrolls.

“Shit, I- wait!” She called after him.  
He turned around, a sad smile on his face.  
“I'm sorry I brought you. I know how much you hated being in the Wardens... and the Deep Roads.”  
“Don't be silly. It's worth it to be with you.”  
She laughed, “Yeah, sure! I bet facing endless darkspawn and the constant threat of death is all worth it to see me!”  
Anders only turned up the corners of his mouth for a second before he turned away.  
_Shit. That wasn't a fucking joke, Hawke. You made a joke of his feelings yet again._  
“See you tomorrow.” He sighed, fading into the darkness.  
“Goodnight.”

She wandered back to Varric, smiling and waving briefly to Fenris who was busy in conversation with a tattooed dwarven lady. Hawke plonked herself down and began rummaging in her bag for something very particular.  
_Bingo!_  
She took out her hip flask and took a few sips, forcing herself not to gag. Ugh, that shit was strong. Varric shot her a look.  
“Want some?” She asked, offering it over, but he shook his head.  
“No thanks.”  
“Suit yourself.” She took another sip and narrowed her eyes at the plate beside her. “Maker no. Please don't tell me that this is our dinner.”  
“I'm afraid so.”  
She shot him a pained look.  
“Oh, to be back in the Hanged Man right now... Tankard in one hand and a blood sausage sandwich in the other.” She smiled weakly and took a rather overenthusiastic bite of the makeshift sandwich.

Her face may as well have turned a strong shade of green as she swallowed the bitter, moist mush. Varric chuckled at the face she pulled, but she elbowed him in the ribs and took another bite, lubricating this one with swigs from her hip flask.

She had hoped not to rely on alcohol quite so much while she was here, but it was difficult when she couldn't even eat the food without needing it. Maybe it was the fact she had only just woken up or maybe it was the fact she was eating something for dinner that she wouldn't have even counted as a snack, but the alcohol was going straight to her head. She raised a hand to her cheek and realised her face was flushing terribly. Then she realised she had been staring at Varric.  
_Shit! How long was I staring for?  
_ She glanced away, at her plate, now lying discarded beside her. It was taking all her willpower - willpower that she didn't have - to stop herself looking at him. There was no point even trying any more.

  


Varric couldn't help but notice the look Hawke was giving her. What did it mean? Was she tired? Hungry? He felt fiery under her gaze. Every now and then he watched her gaze lower from his face to his chest... and below. He didn't know how much more of it he would be able to take before he'd spontaneously combust.  
Was it his imagination or was she getting closer?

“How drunk are you, Hawke?”  
“Not really.” She replied, in her best 'I'm not drunk, I swear' voice. It would maybe work on anyone else, but not him.  
“Well...” He sighed, looking away and scratching the back of his head. “I'm going to head to bed in a minute. Don't stay up too late, we've got a big day tomorrow.”  
“Oh- em... right.” She muttered, “Night.”

  


_Keep your damned thoughts out the gutter, Hawke!_ She thought to herself as she watched him make his way towards the bedrolls.

How tempting it was to just pull him in closer, grab at his hair, his clothes. Letting his hands wander over her body...  
_Stop it. You're just horny. And drunk.  
_ She shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts, but they kept returning. Maker, she was so close to kissing him just there. It was a good thing he walked off.  
_He's your friend. Maker's balls, can I not even trust myself any more? Great! Just what I needed.  
_ She rubbed her face with her hand and shook her head once more.  
_Time to at least try to get to sleep, I guess._

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Blondie was right. Nothing could prepare you for the Deep Roads.

Sure, Varric had heard stories of it from books, his parents, brother and Anders. He'd seen drawings and paintings and maps. He knew magma lined the halls, illuminating and warming the long corridors, but he hadn't anticipated the heat. He knew it would be big and heavy with Dwarven architecture and culture, but he hadn't thought that it would be so... vast. He'd even come across a few stray darkspawn in his time, but that was all nothing compared to the reality.

It was a completely different ring of nugs entirely.

He could see the dwarven pride written all over Bartrand's smug face. As if he needed any more reason to gloat over his heritage. It almost made Varric sick. He could see his smug smirk as he talked about how happy he was that he wasn't born on the surface. Unlike some “unfortunate” people.

He knew he'd have mixed feelings being down here. Who in his position wouldn't? This expedition had been years in the making. They'd both sacrificed so much to afford this, to plan this, to create this venture. So much was riding on this. And yet he hated it from the moment he stepped into the darkness. He hated nature but he would happily frolic in the forest with Merrill instead of this. Well... probably.

“It's amazing, isn't it, Varric?”  
“It's pretty interesting.”  
“This is the closest you'll ever get to Orzammar. Enjoy it while you can.”  
_And why exactly would I even want to go to Orzammar, Brother? The only people that think it's anything better than a shithole are the people at the top of the ladder there, shitting on everyone else. You really think the casteless wandering Dust Town really care for the place?_

Bartrand was still rambling, but Varric was no longer listening. He didn't care to hear about the place that destroyed the lives of both of his parents, one life more quickly than the other. Even on the surface they played house as if they were still there. It sickened him to remember the charade, the obsession.

What's the point in even thinking about it? As Rivaini would say, if it can't bring you gold or giggles, what's the point in dwelling on it? Although that was usually when consoling someone who lost a large amount of money to her during a session of Wicked Grace. Sure, the expedition would bring them gold, but talking about their heritage certainly wouldn't.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  


Hawke took yet another sip from her hip flask. She would say she was used to the concoction now, but that certainly wasn't the case. If anything, the more she drank, the more difficult it was to drink any more. Every sip made her want to contort violently.

It had only been maybe 12 hours since they'd entered the Deep Roads and she already hated it. The smell, the heat, the muggy air, the darkspawn... was it really so much to ask for to never see another darkspawn again?

Her eyes darted around the camp. She knew Varric was looking in her direction and she didn't want to meet eyes with him. It was awkward enough already, no thanks to yesterday evening. That urge to merge bodies with him was still there, still strong, but easier to ignore with him far enough away. Once he turned to have a conversation with Bartrand, she looked at him intently. Every so often he'd look back in her direction and her eyes would dart to her hipflask and she'd take another disgusting drink.

“I'm surprised you're not spending the evening with Varric.” Fenris sighed.  
“I don't have to be glued to him, do I?” She chuckled, “We are separate people, despite what others may think.”  
“That _is_ true.”

  


_Is Hawke avoiding me on purpose?_

Varric thought back, through the day. She'd barely spoken more than a word to him since last night.

_Did I say something? Do something? Or am I imagining it?_

He looked over at her and, as she did every time he looked at her this evening, she took a sip of her hipflask. That was a little too convenient not to be a coincidence. Once, twice, maybe it could be, but every time?

She laughed at something Fenris said, her nose crinkling in that cute way it always did when she found something genuinely hilarious. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the embers of the fire, visible even metres away.

_Shit. Now is not the time to be so fucking cute, Hawke!_

  


_Maker's Balls, Varric!_ Hawke screamed internally, _Stop looking at me!_

She could feel herself fiery under his gaze. Those eyes... if only they didn't make her feel the way she did. She had to take another drink to cope

_If this keeps up then I guess I'll be going to the Blooming Rose a lot more often when I get back to Kirkwall... especially with my new-found riches.  
Would it be weird to go for one of the dwarves there? It would be, wouldn't it... and Varric would probably find out... he's good at that._

“Shall we see if anyone is up for a game of Wicked Grace?”  
“Sure!” She said, a little too enthusiastically.

At least it would be something to focus her mind on, other than having sex with her best friend, at least.

They made their way around the camp, asking if anyone wanted to join in, although most were only interested in Diamondback, so only a few people joined in with the four of them. Hawke sat beside Anders, who had Varric beside him. Maker only knows what would happen if she was close enough to get her hands on him.

The game started and yet she still couldn't keep her thoughts off him. It took every ounce of her willpower to not pick him up and drag him behind a pillar. After loosing tragically the last three rounds in a row, Hawke decided it best to retire to her bed (actually, her mat on the floor) and pretend to sleep.

  


_What's wrong with Hawke tonight?_ Varric thought to himself as he watched her say her goodnights and wibble over to her bedroll. _Maker, is she really **that** drunk?_

He could see her fumbling with her bedroll, almost falling over in the process.

“I'm going to go and check on her, make sure she's okay.” Varric sighed, putting his cards down and rising to his feet.  
“Good idea.” Fenris smirked, slightly amused by Hawke's inability to do the simplest of tasks.

  


“Hawke?”  
_No. No. No. Get him away from me.  
_ “What's up?” Hawke sighed, turning his back to him, trying to undo the buckles on her armour, and failing.  
“Are you doing okay?”  
“Just tired...”  
“And drunk.”  
“Oh yeah! I am... that too.”  
“You don't get this bad unless there's something bothering you.”  
“Well there's the crappy food... the darkspawn... the lack of sunlight... the lack of fresh air... the lack of air in general...” She tailed off, _The fact I want to do unmentionable things to you....  
_ “Take your pick, I guess.”  
“We haven't even been underground for a whole day yet. Are you going to be okay down here?”  
“It's too late to turn back.”  
“You _could-_ ”  
“No. I'm not a quitter.”

She tried once more to undo her armour, to no avail.

“Do you need help there?”  
“I... eh...”  
“I won't look.”  
“Okay. We should...” She nodded in the direction of the others at the camp.  
“Sure.”

He followed her into a more shadowy part of the camp and she kneeled down. Now she was pretty much eye level with him. His face was so close to hers. All she would have to do is lean forward a little and she would be able to kiss him.

Before she could act on her urges, Varric set to work, undoing the buckles and clasps. He kept his gaze firmly on the his task, not letting it wander to the lesser-dressed parts of Hawke... a little to her own disappointment, although also much to her relief.

“How much _did_ you have to drink, Hawke?”  
“Half my hip flask... I think?”  
“Okay, not as bad as I thought then. Have you eaten at all?”  
“Yeah.”  
The last piece of armour came loose and Varric gave her a stern look.  
“Really?”  
“I'm not going to specify how much, but I still ate!”  
“Hawke-”  
“Save your judgement for another day. I'm too tired for it now.”  
“Fine... Fine...” Varric sighed, rubbing his forehead, “See you tomorrow then.” And with that he turned around and began walking back towards the others.  
“Night.”

And with that Hawke got into her bedroll and tried to get comfy.  
_What's wrong with me? Is my time of the month coming? Maybe my body is just getting desperate? Well... at least he's a distraction from my_ _ **real**_ _problems._

She thought about him. How close he was to her when he was undoing her armour. How easy it would have been for her to pull his face into hers. She wondered what it would feel like, what he would taste like, what his muscles would feel like under her fingers. Firm, she suspected. And probably smooth too...

  


_Why does it feel like someone is stabbing me in the stomach?_ She thought to herself, sitting up and looking around to see a camp full of sleeping people. _I guess I fell asleep? That makes a change._

Everyone was in their bedrolls, except for the patrols looking out for any straggling darkspawn. She knew that feeling in her stomach all too well. She got out of her bedroll and scrambled for her rags and bloodmoss.

 _Okay, so not only am I underneath the ground, starving and hungover, but I'm also on my period?  
_ She stumbled to her feet, trying to ignore the sharp pains.  
_For fuck's sake, I forgot to bring elfroot! I **knew** there was something! _ She looked around. _Would Anders maybe have some? Good thing I'm a rogue, I guess._

She followed the eerie glowing to Anders' bedside and his satchel full of healing supplies. Making sure to be as silent as humanly possible, she kneeled down and began rummaging in his bag. Without warning, Anders' head snapped around to look at her, his eyes aglow a bright blue against the unending darkness.  
“Fucking hell!” Hawke exclaimed, clutching her chest, “Y-You gave me a fright there, Anders.”  
“Anders is asleep. I am Justice.”  
“Oh. Eh... Hi Justice.”  
“May I enquire as to what you are doing with Anders' possessions?”  
“I need some elfroot. I... um... am in pain.”  
“I see. You are a friend of his and you seem in genuine pain so I shall let you proceed.”

Using the convenient light of Anders' (or was it Justice's?) eyes, she found the elfroot, nodded at Justice and got the fuck away from whatever _that_ was. She made her way towards the fire to begin brewing some elfroot tea. How lovely. Her favourite.

With the tea brewing, she found quiet, private corner to see the damage done to her smallclothes. She'd bled through. Of course she had. She always had.

After sorting everything out, she sat down by the fire to drink her... very pleasant tasting tea. She wanted almost nothing else at that moment to look up and see the sky above her. The moon. A constellation or two. And a cool breeze. How nice it would be to feel a breeze on her face. Not this stuffy, old air.

 _Well..._ She thought to herself, noticing how non-drowsy she was, _I guess that's me awake for the day. Great._

_Maker, can this expedition get any worse?_

  


Oh boy, little did she know.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Christmas everyone and happy holidays!  
> Next chapter will probably be up around 2nd/3rd of January!


	9. Chapter 9

“You okay there, Varric?” Hawke asked, trailing back with him.  
He sighed, scratching the back of his head, “Just seething in hatred for Bartrand.”

It had only been hours since Bartrand had stolen the idol, closed the door and left them for dead. It was no surprise he was seething, but he seemed to be doing so very far from the surface that it was only noticeable in the way his hands were shaking and jaw tightly clamped shut.

“Let me know if you need any help with that.” She tried to laugh, forcing it maybe a little too much.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Hawke could see that his fist was shaking and his eyebrow twitching.

“Leaving me... leaving us all to die... for stupid profits? For a fucking idol? I knew he was motivated by money... greedily so, but I never thought he'd stoop so low.”

He put a hand over his eyes for a moment and took a few more deep breaths, but he kept walking forward.

“Shit.” He sighed.  
“A-are you wanting to take a break for a while?”  
“No, no. Let's just keep going.”  
“I can sense darkspawn ahead.” Anders sighed, reaching for his staff.  
“Just pretend this darkspawn is Bartrand! Do to them what you would do to him.”  
“Good idea.” He smirked, cocking Bianca and gripping her as if she was his only hold on the world, “They'll never know what hit them.”

He fought those darkspawn as if he'd never fought before. If any got to close, he'd ram them back and shoot a bolt through its head. A few times a rogue bolt came close to hitting Hawke, but of course, she'd never say. Especially not now.

The battle seemed to end as soon as it began and Hawke gathered what she could, even though she didn't know why. For all she knew, they may never get out of that place. But she didn't need to think that. She needed to stay positive. She still had Varric... and a few hip flasks left. She'd just have to ration them now. For real this time.

“How are you feeling now then?” She asked, wiping her hands on her clothes.  
“Fine...” He sighed, putting Bianca back in her holder.  
“Fine? Your brother just betrayed you and left you to die only a few hours ago and you're _fine_?”  
“Just trying to keep it together. There's no point in letting it get to my head... at least not without a stiff drink in my hand.”  
“Funny you should say that...” Hawke smirked, rummaging in her backpack.

She presented her last full hip flask and placed it in Varric's hand, who looked at her with what was probably disbelief.

“Trust you of all people...” He chuckled lightly and looked at the flask in his hand., “Thanks, I really appreciate it.  
“You'll make better use of it than I at least.” She sighed, smiling to hide the tinge of regret.  
“Maker knows I'll be having some of this when we set up camp next.”  
“That's what it's there for!”

Surprisingly, it wasn't long until the group found a secluded corner with no darkspawn corpses in it, so they decided to hunker down for the night and have a look at their options. Well, their option, as lying on the floor and waiting for death was apparently _not_ an option.

“I'm so hungry even deep mushrooms seem like a good meal to me right now.” Hawke sighed, rubbing her aching feet.  
Anders snorted. “I should certainly hope so, because that's all we've got to eat.”  
“You're kidding!”  
He shook his head, a sullen look on his face soon overtaking what little mirth he had.

The fire they had made was warm and welcome, crackling lightly against the oppressive silence of stone. The silence was only added to by the group as they huddled around the warmth, letting the events of the day filter in.

Hawke had never seen anger on Varric's face before. Or ever before, really. Worried? Sure. Frustrated? Often. Annoyed? Occasionally. But she'd never seen lines of anger on his face, a fire behind his eyes, his fist clenched in rage. Hawke caught the eye of Anders who gave her a worried look from behind his deep mushroom preparation. She shot him a sad look back, stifling down that feeling of helplessness she'd spent her life trying to avoid.

  
  


_Of all the things... of all the times he's stabbed me in the back, this has to be the worst._

Varric stared intently at the ground in front of him, imagining all the painful ways he could kill his brother.

_Leaving me and my friends to die? For what? Profit? Was he planning it? Was it a last minute decision?_

He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him free from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Hawke sitting beside her and the others missing from the fire.

“Where are the others?”  
“Seeing if they can find anything other than deep mushrooms to eat.”  
“I don't think anything else _is_ edible down here.”  
“Yeah... great...” Hawke sighed, shuffling a little closer, “How are you doing, anyway?”  
“Honestly?” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I guess I'm still in shock.”

She nodded and lowered her hand from his shoulder and took his hand in hers.

“We **are** going to make it out of here.” Hawke said, firmly, for her sake as much as his, “Anders has had a look at the maps and he thinks he's found a path around.”  
“I wasn't worried about that. I'm worried that I'll miss my chance to stick a bolt through each of his eyes.”  
“You'll get your chance, even if you have to dig up his grave and do it the old fashioned way. And I'd be happy to help in any way I can. It's the least I can do.”  
“Thank you, Hawke.” He sighed, squeezing her hand, “I hope we manage to find something down here to make it worth it. I know you've been needing the money from this.”  
“No need to be sorry. It's not your fault. We'll find a way.”

He nodded, watching those azure eyes search through his own.

 _Thank the maker I have her._ He thought to himself, squeezing her hand once more.

“Thanks for the drink, by the way. Drinking myself silly is going to help, I'm sure.”  
“That's what I'm here for, is it not? Leading my friends into alcoholism is my speciality!”  
“I thought that would be Rivaini's job.”  
“We're partners in crime.”  
“Crime? Don't let Aveline hear you say that. Maker, I even miss _her_!”  
“Me too. She'd be so good to have with us right now. Dependable... the voice of reason...”  
“I dread to think how Daisy would be doing down here.”  
“She'd have wilted without sunlight.”  
“I swear she's the furthest thing from a dwarf as I've ever come across.”  
“I second that.” Hawke said, her smile slowly fading.

 _I hope Bethany and Mother are okay._ Hawke thought to herself, trying to calm her worried thoughts as she watched Varric produce the hip flask and took a drink.

“Maker's hairy ballsack!” He gasped, coughing, “This is some strong stuff! What even is this?”  
“A... mixture, I guess. Some whiskey, some rum, a little bit of mead...”  
“I don't know if I've ever had something so... strong.”  
“Would you expect anything different from me?” Hawke asked, forcing a smirk onto her lips.  
He sighed, shaking his head, “I guess not. No wonder you kept getting so drunk.”

_Maker, Andraste... Whoever... If you exist... I know I have my doubts, but please watch over my sister and mother._

Hawke sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hide the fact her eyes were glazing over with the beginnings of tears.

_Please don't let anything happen to them._

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Varric taking the occasional sip from the flask.

“Do you want some?” He asked, finally breaking the silence between the two.  
“No thanks, it's for you. Anyway, I have my own stash.”

She took out her last hipflask and took a sip, shuddering at the taste of so many drinks mashed into one.

“It's not exactly the Hanged Man down here but... it'll do.” She sighed, swirling the drink in its flask.  
“That seems to be the others coming back.”  
“Have you still got your Wicked Grace deck?”  
“Yes. Thank the Maker.”  
“All the better! Let's have a game!”

She couldn't remember much of the rest of the night. Probably because she just didn't want to. That was probably it.

  
  


The next day (or what they assumed was daytime) was spent trying to gather their bearings and fighting off whatever darkspawn they came across, so there wasn't much surprise there.

Hawke sighed and took a swig from her hip flask. __  
Empty.  
Shit.

Hawke plonked herself down beside Varric, who was polishing down Bianca.

“How is she holding up down here?” Hawke asked.  
“She's not much a fan of the dark... and the caves... and the lack of sunlight, but she'll survive.”  
“And you?”  
“I'm as good as I can be, I guess.”  
“Still want to shoot an arrow up that arsehole's arse?”  
“No... I want to shoot twenty.”  
Hawke smirked and nodded, “Glad you've not lost your fighting spirit.”  
“I'm sorry I've barely been asking you how _you've_ been doing.” He sighed as he gave Bianca a soft look – one that would be wonderful to be on the receiving end of – and put her back in her holder, “How _are_ you doing, Hawke?”  
“I could really do with a drink right now.”  
“Couldn't we all.”

She forced out a laugh, maybe _too_ forcibly, and hoped that Varric didn't pick up on the fakeness of it.

“I take it your hip flask ran out.”  
She nodded and took off her daggers, “Unfortunately so.”  
“So you're out of alcohol then?”  
“Please don't make me think about this any longer than I have to. Maker only knows how I'm going to get to sleep tonight.”  
“I dread to think, especially with how you've not exactly been sleeping down here.”  
“Shit, you know?”  
“Hawke, you can't pull the wool over my eyes. Did you really think it would go away? And _here_ of all places?”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, trying to settle the first signs of a headache.

“You'll be fine.”

_Yeah well, that's easy for you to say._

“Thanks.”  
“Now, shall we see if Blondie and Broody need any help preparing dinner?”  
“I'll... sit for a while... thanks.”

He nodded and rose to his feet, Bianca cradled in his arms like a babe. Hawke swore she could hear him muttering, comforting words to the crossbow. Maker, that embrace and those soft words would probably be extremely comforting right about now.

 _I **knew** four flasks wouldn't be enough! _ She thought to herself, throwing it recklessly behind her, _Why didn't I take more?_

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“And that's how I was nearly banned from the Viscount's Keep.”  
The group fell into hushed laughter. Even Fenris chuckled to himself.  
“Surely not!” Anders laughed, barely able to look at his hand of cards.  
“I shit you not, Blondie! Would I lie about something so crucial?”

Hawke subconsciously reached out her spare hand for a drink, as if they were still at the Hanged Man. As if she still had alcohol to drink. She had almost fooled herself they were still there, just like any other Wicked Grace night, drawn in by Varric's expertly crafted story.

  
  


_What I wouldn't give for a drink right now._  
Maker.  
I'd probably give my right arm for something right now.  
Fuck Bartrand.  
Fuck the Deep Roads.

Hawke tossed and turned, hear head aching more and more with every turn. She was so inexplicably thirsty, it almost felt as if she had never seen a drop of water in her life before. It had been hours since this horrible headache reared its ugly head and it was really starting to get to her. Nothing would put her mind at ease. She put an arm over her eyes, trying to ignore how shaky her hands were, grinding her teeth in frustration.

_I'm not getting to sleep now, not without a miracle._

She looked over to where Varric was sleeping, unable to tell if he was awake or not. She waved a hand to see if he was concious but got no response.

_How lucky he is to be able to sleep._

She sat up, her head in her hands. Anders noticed and walked over to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked.  
“I'm fine. I'm not going to get to sleep any time soon though. Do you want me to take over the watch?”  
“You sure?”  
“No point in us both being up.” She sighed, getting out of her sleeping bag.  
“Thanks. If there's ever a time you want me to take over your watch-”  
“Thanks, but I should be fine.”  
“Goodnight.”  
“Night.”

Hawke put on her dagger holders, put her daggers in and stretched a little, ready for watch.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


The next few days were spent trying not to wonder too aimlessly and fighting everything they came across. So that included countless shades, darkspawn and even a rock wraith. Countless battles with no clear end in sight was beginning to drain everyone of their morale and their will to continue, but somehow lying on the ground waiting for death seemed worse than dying at the hand of a darkspawn.

They were walking down what felt like the hundredth corridor, when Hawke drew her daggers, stopping dead in her tracks.

“What is it, Hawke?”  
“You didn't hear that?”  
“Hear what?” Varric asked, coking his head slightly, “What did it sound like?”  
“I... don't know if I can describe it.... There! Again!”

She looked over to Varric expectantly but he just shook his head.

“Maybe... maybe this place is making me mad.” She sighed, although still keeping her daggers out.  
“Or maybe you need to get some sleep.”  
“Sleep? Here?” She giggled almost manically, “I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.”  
“I'm sorry to interrupt...” Anders sighed, running over, “But could we hurry up a little? I'm really... not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary.”  
“It's all fine, Blondie. We're only a few days away from getting out.”

Hawke turned around and tilted her head.

“There it is again...” She whispered, putting a hand to her forehead.  
“Are you okay, Hawke?”  
“Fine... fine... Just... please tell me one of you can hear it too.”  
“Hear what.”  
“It's like... scratching nails against stone...”  
Varric cast a look to the others, who just shook their heads.  
“Hawke, you really need to rest. Let's stop at the first place we find-”  
“But it's there, it's really there! I can hear it! It's louder than it was!” She cried, before putting her head in her hands, “Am I... I'm really going mad, amn't I?”  
“Let's just keep going. Everything will be fine. Just keep your head on for now.”

Hawke nodded and followed the others.

  
  


That night, Hawke lay in her bedroll, shivering from a fever, endlessly tossing and turning.

_How can they sleep?... How do they expect me to sleep?_

Shadows surrounded them, coming closer, moving, plotting. She watched them, watched their moves, watched them flicker and dance. She shivered under the warm blankets, her body cold, no matter how close to the lava she got.

She tossed and turned, feeling greener by the minute, she couldn't lie still. The caves around her swirled, her bones ached, her head felt as if it would burst.

“You okay there, Hawke?” Fenris asked, looking over.  
“Just... a bit sick...”  
He nodded and came to sit by her. He put a hand to her forehead.  
“You _do_ have a fever...” He sat silent for a moment.

Hawke closed her eyes, not wanting to admit how comforting it was.

“Open your eyes, please.”

They shot open and he leaned in, staring into them, deeply. He was so close she could see the light green of his eyes, searching through her own.

“I do not see the blight in you.”  
“I... hadn't even considered that being possible. I thought I was just... catching a cold? Maybe a tummy bug...”  
“This is no mere cold.” He mumbled, “You've been hallucinating.”  
“I'm just run down from a lack of decent sleep. I just can't sleep properly... not here anyway.”  
“I'll... get the mage to keep an eye on you. He'll know better than any of us what the blight will look like.”  
“I'm flattered you would have a respectful conversation with him for my sake. Don't bother him though. If I have the blight then I'll die anyway, nothing can be done about it.”  
Fenris stared at her with a stern look and sighed, “If that is what you wish.”  
Hawke laughed awkwardly, “That... was supposed to be a joke... Sounded better in my head though.”  
“If it helps you cope, it helps you cope I guess.”  
“You don't go through shit in your life without finding joy and release in unusual ways.” She sat up, still engulfed in her sleeping bag, shaking a little underneath, “I must admit it's nice to see you looking concerned though. A pleasant change from your usual broody look.”  
He furrowed his eyebrows, “I am not broody.”  
“Aaaaand there it is again. I knew it wouldn't last.”

She could feel bile making its way up her stomach. Her mouth began watering, her throat heaving. Her body lurched to the side without warning. She took a shaking hand from her sleeping bag to steady herself and heaved, trying her best to be quiet.

“Is there anything I can get you?”  
“A stiff drink wouldn't go amiss.” She croaked, smiling weakly, “But that's not possible so... water would be good.”  
He nodded and produced a water flask, “Drink as much as you need.”  
“Thank you.” She wheezed, “I'm going to see if I can get any sleep now.”  
“Keep the water by you. I think you need it more than I.”

Hawke lay down, shivering. Her head pounded, it wouldn't let her get to sleep. The shadows kept moving, contorting, changing, breathing. The darkness felt as if it would consume her whole. Whispers of the void. Taunts of the silent. They swirled around her head, falling, twisting, breaking. So cold.  
 _So cold._

“...Hawke...”  
 _My name?_  
“...help...”  
 _Who?  
_ “...it's...not...safe...”

Her heart pounded. Suddenly the darkness turned a familiar colour.  
 _Red. Everything is red.  
_ Oozing from every pore of her body. The anger. The hatred. The fear. The heat.

“...help...”

 _Where... where even am I?_  
She tried to shout, to scream, but no words would come out.  
 _No-one can hear me.  
_ An emptiness filled her chest. Something was missing. No matter how her body heaved, she couldn't breathe.  
 _I'm going to die._  
“...Hawke...”

She felt herself fading. The world suddenly growing colder and colder. Shaking. Something was shaking her.

Her eyes burst open, frantically searching for something to see. Hazy blurs slowly came into focus.  
“Hawke? Are you alright?”  
She tried to sit up but felt too weak, as if something was pushing her down.  
“Here.”

She could feel a flask of water touching her lips. She tried to drink, although most dribbled down her face in stead.

“Who are you?” She croaked.

The figure came into focus. Dark hair, deep brown eyes. How did she not recognise her before?

“B-Bethany!?”  
“I've missed you, sis!”  
“What are you doing here!?”  
“I followed you here! I didn't want you to get all the adventure!”

Hawke stayed quiet. Speechless didn't even begin to describe how she felt.

“I'm surprised you recognise me.” Bethany giggled, “I look so different now!”

Hawke looked at her. No, this wasn't the Bethany she knew. Her eyes were dull and oozing blood. Maggots wriggled through a hole in her teeth, eating her alive. Her fingers were blackened with what was hopefully only dirt, her skin peeling in places. Rotting flesh was the only thing she could smell and it was overwhelming, making her gag.

“M-M-Maker's breath!? What the fuck happened to you?”

Hawke lay, shocked, unable to move as Bethany poured more and more water over her, all over her face, laughing manically.

“Hawke!”

She opened her eyes once more to see blurry, yet familiar faces around.

“Thank fuck.” A familiar, gravelly voice grumbled.  
“What?” Her eyes finally focused on her companions. “What happened?”  
“You had a bad fever during the night.” Anders sighed, helping her sit up, “I tried to help but you stopped responding and that's when I used the water.”  
“S-so Bethany wasn't here then?”  
“Why would she be?” Varric asked, touching her arm.

She shook her head, still feeling dizzy.

“Do you think you'll be okay to keep going?” Anders asked, concern glazing over his eyes.  
“I'll be fine once I've had something to eat.”  
“You sure?” He pushed, “Fenris is just resting and then we'll be up and going.”  
“I'm sure we can rest here a little longer, Blondie. The surface isn't getting any further away.” He turned to Hawke, worry reflecting in his golden eyes, “Care for some deep mushrooms and nug meat?”  
“I would give my left arm for a blood sausage sandwich right now, but I guess that'll have to do.”

She took the food from Varric and began to eat it. Her stomach was still queasy, but she was able to keep it down if she held her nose and ignored the texture. For now at least.

“Any idea how far we are from the surface now?” She mumbled over to Anders.  
“Two days.” He sighed, looking at the map.  
“Really? That soon?”  
“I wouldn't be saying so if I didn't believe it myself. I can't wait to be rid of this place. Too many bad memories...”  
“You know, Anders?” She asked, waiting for him to look at her before continuing, “Sometimes I find it easy to forget that you were once a grey warden... and sometimes I find it difficult.”  
“That's fair enough.” He responded plainly, before walking off, leaving Varric and Hawke once again alone.

“Are you okay?” Varric asked, shuffling closer to her.  
“I will be.”  
“Nightmares?”

She nodded, blinking as little as possible so she couldn't relive the night terror. That image of Bethany, looming over her, half dead and decomposing was almost as bad as Carver being crushed and thrown about by an ogre.

Keeping her eyes steeled onto the fire, she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as she had so many times before.

“How's your fever?”  
“I really can't tell.” She mumbled, shivering into him.

He put a cool hand to her forehead, her heart pounding in response. At least her unwanted feelings helped her feel somewhat alive.

“Still not so good.” He said, looking into her face with worry, his hand not moving from her forehead.  
“I'll survive.” She said, with more conviction than she'd felt for days, “Two more days and we'll be out of here.”  
“I hope so.” He nodded, his hand moving hesitantly down her face to her cheek.

She placed her hand on top of his, stroking the rough skin with her thumb, meeting his troubled gaze. Sure, they were closer than the imaginary barrier between platonic and romantic would usually allow, but they were also miles underground with the looming threat of death, so the barrier didn't matter at that moment. All that mattered was physical comfort. And that was all they allowed themselves to think.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoooo everyone!  
> Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out, I haaaaate the deep roads and I've just been putting it off and putting it off forever now. Also I've been working on a modern AU that's been absorbing all my spare time and resources, so there's that too. (read it here if you want to -> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13247709/chapters/30304293 )
> 
> Next chapter should be out the 29th? The good stuff is coming soon, I promise, but it wouldn't be a slow burn without it being... a slow burn.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, they really mean a lot to me!


	10. Chapter 10

“Really? A rock wraith?” Varric grumbled, kicking a loose rock with his foot, “What else can the Deep Roads throw at us?”  
“Don't tempt it to throw anything _else_ at us.” Hawke moaned, rubbing her head, woozy from the healing spells, “Maker, I could do with a blood sausage sandwich right now.”  
“You've said that enough times already.” Fenris groaned, taking a health poultice and checking his armour for damage.  
“It's true though! I really miss-”  
“I think we knew that before we even stepped foot down here.” Anders sighed.

For once he was actually agreeing with Fenris. It must have been a Satinalia miracle! Well, it could be Satilalia topside for all they knew.

Hawke let out a sigh of suppressed anger, one of many in the past day. “I don't know if you've noticed but I've barely eaten this whole expedition-”  
“Well, neither have I.” Anders grumbled under his breath.  
“Yeah, you'd rather get your sustenance through complaining about the food that we have no choice but to eat.” Fenris huffed.  
“I can't help it if I don't like deep mushrooms!” Hawke retorted.  
“Neither do I, but you seem to think that choosing not to eat them is worthy of sympathy?” Anders huffed.   
“Yes, but you don't mind deep mushrooms. I'm sure I heard you say that you almost liked them.”  
“When did I _ever_ say that? Maker, you'd die of starvation within days if you were a Grey Warden.”  
“Well you barely eat at the best of times, Anders.” Hawke spat, “I don't see why _you're_ complaining.”  
“Can we stop this?” Varric sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I have the worst headache.”

She reached for the water supply, finding it a hell of a lot more empty than expected.

“Has anyone else noticed we're almost out of water-” Hawke quipped, out of genuine curiosity.  
“Because the mage decided it was a good idea to throw almost all of it over Hawke.” Fenris grunted.  
“I did it because I was worried that she wasn't breathing.”  
“Who says I wanted to breathe?” Hawke chuckled. Humour derived from self deprivation was better than no humour.  
“And _then_ what would happen to your family, Hawke?!” Anders snapped.  
“It was a joke!” She forced out a chuckle, “We're probably going to die anyway, there's no point in being so serious!  
“CAN WE ALL JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Varric yelled.

Varric's voice boomed around the deep cavern as silence fell around the group. No-one dared speak back. Hawke pocketed what little findings she had and ran to catch up with Varric, who was purposely walking ahead.

“Varric-”  
“Save it for later. I'm not in the mood to talk.”  
“But-”  
“Hawke. Leave it for now.”

She nodded and fell behind to Anders and Fenris. Fenris didn't seem bothered about Varric's sudden outburst, but Anders obviously was.

“I don't like seeing Varric so angry.” Anders sighed, dragging his feet.  
 _“This was all your fault, mage.”_  
“Is _everything_ my fault like it usually is? Are you about to turn around and blame me for you being born into slavery?”  
“You know, I think Varric's right. We should stop fighting.”

The group walked on in silence up a corridor that seemed to go on for ever, but they were walking upwards, ever so slightly and that was all that mattered right now. That was, until they turned a corner and a bright light seemed to come from afar.

“Is that... sunlight?” Hawke asked, feeling the piercing light on her eyes.  
“We've made it!?” Anders cried, “We've actually made it!”

They stumbled as quickly as they could to the doors and pushed them open. With a stiff groan, they gave way and sunlight hit them all like a punch in the face. It didn't matter to them, though.

They had made it. They were out. And they were alive.

“There was an inn we passed on the way here, was there not?” Anders asked, his voice wavering.  
“Oh, I think I know the one you mean. It was half a day's walk from Kirkwall, I think?”  
“And we're what... Four, five days from Kirkwall?” Fenris grunted.  
“A day or two from some home comforts then.” Hawke smiled, “If they have a-”  
“Blood sausage sandwich...” Varric sighed, his voice no longer devoid of mirth, “yes, yes...”  
“I was going to say a drink, but now that you mention it-”  
“Urgh!” Anders cried, falling to the ground.

Varric lunged over and managed to catch him before he completely plummeted to the ground.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're fine, Blondie. You're good. You're fine.”

Anders groaned and nodded, doubled over, his face scrunched half in pain and half in confusion.

“My legs just... stopped working I guess.” He moaned.  
“We'll rest here for a while. I think we deserve it.” Hawke sighed, looking up at the sky in wonder.

Varric swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up too, his hands unintentionally tensing around Anders' slender arm.

“You know, I think... I finally understand that fear of falling into the sky...”  
“Please don't tell me you're going all Dwarven on me, Varric.”

She chuckled, a sparkle in her eyes that had been absent for way too long, but her smile showed just how hollow her cheeks had become. How didn't he notice this? He cast his eyes over her torso and shoulders, her armour hanging loose, even on the tightest buckles. She brought a hand over her face to shield her eyes, her arm looking ready to snap at the slightest impact. Had he really been so wrapped up in his own problems that he hadn't noticed his own best friend wilting right in front of him?

“Once I'm feeling a bit more grounded, I'll go see if there's anything to eat around here.” Varric said as Hawke shot him a look, “Other than deep mushrooms, of course.”  
“Need any help?” Fenris asked, ready to pull himself to his feet.  
“No need. Bianca and I can take care of it. You guys just rest.”

  
  


The first thing they did once they got to the tavern was eat.

Much to Hawke's despair, they didn't have any blood sausage sandwiches, but they had the usual kind, so she wasn't completely heartbroken. They went down surprisingly well with the first alcoholic drink Hawke had had in what felt like an age. Surprisingly, she actually took Anders' advice not to eat too quickly or she may just sick it back up again. It may have had something to do with whatever she'd caught down there that caused her to retch unrelentingly for a good few hours.

Next on the agenda was bathing.

Hawke didn't even bother counting how many times the tub had to be refilled to wash off all that dirt and grime. She'd broken out in spots too, some painful and some right where her armour dug into her skin. She was only able to see the full extent now. She had never been one for bathing for the sake of bathing. She didn't find it the most enjoyable task (and it was usually done at her mother's insistence) but this was no doubt, the best fucking bath she'd ever had.

She wished she could have asked Varric to help wash her back, but he was downstairs, giving her privacy. Not that she wouldn't have minded him watching or anything...

It seemed that her infatuation of him hadn't quite been pushed away, out of existence like she'd half hoped. And now, out of the deep roads, without the constant threat of death and distraction of hunger, it was coming back with a vengeance.

Maybe if she didn't feel so bad about Varric letting her bathe first then she would have maybe taken her time to scratch the itch between her legs that had been bugging her for months now. But no, Varric needed use of the tub as much as she did. And anyway, her fingers didn't feel nearly clean enough for that. Not that they _seemed_ dirty or anything.

After that, a stiff drink was certainly in order.

The drinks in this place weren't quite like the swill at the Hanged Man, but there was nothing like sitting around a table, a drink in one hand, a hand of cards in the other, laughing away the stress of the last few months. The thought of it kept her going through many a difficult night.

The sun was still high in the sky by the time Anders decided to head for bed.

“Another one?” Varric grunted.  
“I think for once the mage has the right idea. I should really resign to my bed.” Fenris grumbled, drawing his hand down his face.  
“Suit yourself!” Hawke hiccuped, waving to the barmaid, “M-more for us!”

The barmaid sighed and brought over two more tankards.

“A toast!” Hawke bellowed, “To our adventure!”  
“May we hunt down Bartrand and hang him from the rafters of the Hanged Man!”  
“Here here!” They clinked their tankards together and downed their drinks, waving over for two more.

Perhaps it was because they hadn't had alcohol in what felt like an age, or because this was the first time they'd been away from the others since before leaving for the deep roads, but Varric just seemed all the more... alluring. His eyes caught the soft candlelight, gleaming in that audacious way that Hawke could barely resist at the best of times. Her eyes were dawn to his mouth as he laughed. She could see his tongue behind his teeth.

_I wonder what it would be like to feel his tongue against mine?  
No. Varric is your friend. Your **friend.** Get your damned mind out of the gutter, Hawke._

She tried to hide behind her tankard, taking a drink, but she saw Varric's face. That slightly confused look. Shit, he knew.

“Captivated by me, are you?”  
Hawke sharply inhaled and lowered her drink, “Hah! Don't flatter yourself, loverboy.”

_Shit. Was I really that obvious?? Shitty shit shit._

  
  


Varric took a sip of his drink, eyeing Hawke over the rim.

_For Maker's sake, Varric. Stop getting your hopes up. She doesn't and won't ever like you like that._

There was something behind those eyes though. A look rarely seen on Hawke's face, even by him. That same one she kept staring at him with in the deep roads that night. An intense stare, as if she was looking right past him. No, it was more as if she was looking past his clothes, mentally undressing him-

_No. She's not like that, you idiot._

  
  


Hawke tried to clear her mind, to focus on the alcohol in front of her, but the thought of Varric was beginning to turn her crazy. Why did he always have to have his chest out? She scratched at her cheek, finding it nostalgically numb from the alcohol, pursing her lips in a feeble attempt not to lick them and crossed her shaking legs.

Her mind was running away with thoughts of things she'd like to do with him, or for him to do with her. She really should stop herself while she was ahead. Sober, she'd have self control. In the deep roads it would have been impossible, but here she was given an opportunity. A _chance_. This _could_ happen, providing that Varric is as good at making bad decisions as her. And by the look on his face, maybe he was more prone to it than he would let on.

He exhaled deeply and looked into his empty tankard. “I... don't think I should drink much more if we're going to be travelling tomorrow.”  
“I second that. Want to call it a night?” Hawke sighed, licking her lips as she finished her drink.  
“Sure.”

They awkwardly rose from the table, and made their way to their shared room for the night. No words were spoken, only quick glances were exchanged and never when the other was looking. Hawke crept an arm around Varric's shoulder, more out of familiarity, to pretend that they were already back at the Hanged Man. The nervous look on his face only proved to reassure her that maybe, just maybe, Varric could want this too.

  
  


“There's only three rooms available. I'm afraid two of us will have to share.” Hawke remembered Varric saying.  
“I know you've stayed overnight in Varric's company before, please spare me from sharing a room with Fenris.” Anders sighed.  
“I won't take that as an insult because I feel the same.” Retorted Ferris.  
“That's fine with me,” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “Varric?”  
“Sure. I'll go get them arranged then.”

She almost regretted that now.

  
  


Varric closed the door behind Hawke, shutting out the outside world and it's reasoning. His coat as shrugged off and thrown over a spare chair as Hawke stood unabashedly staring, mesmerized by the faint outline of his chest in the dim light. He was going to drive her over the edge and he didn't even know it.

“Are you not a bit hot in that?” She teased, a sly smile spreading over her lips, “I know I am.”  
He swallowed deeply, his eyes finally meeting hers. “It's... slightly warm in here, I guess.”

She felt all of her will drained from her as she watched him take off his tunic. His necklace shone, making it even more impossible to ignore his firm chest. The dim candle light only accentuated his firm muscles. She'd seen him topless before – more times than she could count – but she'd always had the self control to look away and busy her mind with other matters. Not this time though.

Varric's eyes flickered over to Hawke as she undid the buckles on her armour and tossed it aside, all while looking him in the eye. She sat alluringly on the bed, taking off her thin linen shirt, her chest puffed and legs sprawled. Her lidded eyes wandered his body, her pupils blown wide as she bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

_This is actually happening? Am I dreaming? Have I died? Any moment now she's going to burst out laughing...surely?_

She reached to take out her ponytail, shaking her head lightly from side to side as the loose strands framed her smooth, sultry face. But the dim light only showed how thin she had got, her ribs poking through her bruised skin. Maker, did she even _eat_ in the Deep Roads?

“Are you feeling okay?”  
“I feel great!” She giggled, her breasts straining against her breastband.  
Varric swallowed deeply, “I'm just going to use the um... facilities.”

  
  


_Keep calm Varric. Keep calm._

Varric splashed his face with water and looked at himself in the broken mirror on the wall. How was it so damn easy for Hawke to seduce him? Was this even on purpose? Was the alcohol in his system giving him illusions? He took a few deep breaths and emerged to face Hawke who, now only wearing her breastband and smalls, sat waiting for him.

“Sit down, Varric.” She cooed, “I don't bite... unless you want me to.”

He hesitantly accepted her invitation and sat on the bed.

  
  


_Here he is, Hawke. You can do whatever you want with him._

She reached out and felt his face with her shaking hand, pulling him in closer, her heartbeat quickening, her mouth watering for the taste of him. She drew his face to hers' until their loose strands of hair mingled.

“Hawke, I think-” Varric began, but he didn't have time to finish the sentence.

She licked her lips and leaned forward, their lips finally meeting. It shot tingles all over Hawke's body. She felt Varric's skin on hers, reaching, seeking. His hand hesitantly held her face. She wanted more. She needed more... and yet Varric was pushing back against her.

“Hawke.”  
“Mhmmm...?”

Varric pushed away from the indecent embrace and looked at Hawke.  
His companion.  
His _friend._

He'd wanted this for so long, longer than he'd even realized. This validation, confirmation that she could in fact like him as anything other as a friend. But this was wrong, this wasn't what either of them deserved.

“I... can't do this.”

Hawke sat back with a confused look. Her eyes were glazed over, head tilted, her mouth slightly ajar, tongue slowly making its way out.

_Maker's balls, how drunk is she?_

“You're not in the right frame of mind for this, Hawke. You're drunk. I'm not exactly sober myself. Plus, we're not even home from the Deep Roads yet. Some serious shit happened there and I don't want to take any of that out on you. If you're wanting a quick kiss and tell then I'm not your guy. Shit, I'll happily escort you to the bloody Rose once we're back and find that elf you like. If you're wanting something more serious then this is not the way to do it. Either way, this isn't going to work.”

“You...” Her face turned from disappointment to shock. “You'd actually be with me?”  
“I've thought about it...” He sighed, “At length.”  
“Shit.” Hawke sighed, hiding her face in her hands, “Why didn't you say anything? I... didn't realise you felt the same...”  
“I could say the exact same thing to you!” Varric laughed as he shook his head and began to chuckle lightly.

A wave of relief washed over him and he just couldn't stop laughing. All the anxiety, the stress, the fear of the past few weeks seemed to fall away into a pit of disbelief. If he'd actually bothered to gather the courage to speak with her then he wouldn't have been in this mess. He really was an idiot. But then again, so was she.

Hawke joined in on the laughing, a light giggle, her eyes creasing. The laugh grew to a chuckle, until her whole body shook from laughing. She gripped onto Varric's shoulder, smiling greatly until her laughter turned to sobs, clinging onto Varric for what seemed like dear life.

“I... fuck... I don't know what I was thinking. I thought I'd have to seduce you for you to see me as anything but a friend.”  
“All you had to do for that was to talk to me.”  
“What do we do now?”  
“I think we should speak about it in the morning and see where it goes.”

Varric wrapped his arms around Hawke and kissed her on the cheek. She sobbed into his shoulder, turning into a teary, snotty mess.

“I'm... sorry...” She cried between sobs.  
“For what?”  
“Everything... but mostly crying... I guess...”

He softly stroked her hair, shaking his head.

“Everyone cries, Hawke. It's nothing to apologise for. By the sounds of it you don't let yourself cry enough.”  
“Maker... I'm so grateful I have you, Varric.”  
Varric let out a sigh, pulling her in closer. “Me too. Come on, let's get some rest. We're not quite home yet and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaayyyyy they're finally out of the Deep Roads, praise the maker!!! TT^TT  
> Also they finally kissed!!! What's going to happen next? Is Hawke going to remember in the morning? Is Varric going to chicken out from taking things further? Who knows!
> 
> I'm taking a bit of a step back from my fic-ing right now because of my mental health so I'm trying to focus on things that'll help me. I'm not going to give a date for when the next chapter will be up because I've not actually been able to put them up when I said I would for months now.
> 
> Once again, thank you all sosososososo much for all the support! <3


	11. Chapter 11

The screech of a bird outside the window was what awoke Varric the next morning. For the first few moments he assumed he was back in Kirkwall, and why wouldn't he? He was in a bed and at least a little hungover and Kirkwall certainly had it's share of noisy birds.

With a stiff groan, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the dim room. And that's when he realised he wasn't in Kirkwall. Racking his brain, he couldn't even remember what day it was, let alone what had happened last night. Maybe he was more drunk than he gave himself credit for. A large lump shuffled and grunted under the covers beside him, shaking him from his hazy thoughts.

_What in Maker's name is that?_

Slowly, he pulled back the covers, subconsciously reaching for Bianca with his free hand.

Oh, it was only Hawke, who – for once – seemed to be sleeping peacefully. The memories of last night slowly came back to him, trickling in moment by moment. His chest swelled as he remembered the words they'd shared... but then a wave of worry washed over him.

Did she mean what she said last night? Even if she did, what was going to happen now? Maybe she was too drunk to remember it happening. She probably was, wasn't she?

 _Aah shit._ He thought to himself, watching Hawke stir. _I've got my hopes up again, haven't I?_

Hawke's bright blue eyes slowly fluttered open and focused on him, her eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

“Hey.” She mumbled with a smile, her eyes clamping shut as a yawn took over her face. Her arms emerged from under the covers, her fists tightly clenched as she stretched.  
“Good sleep?”  
“Eh...” She groaned as she rubbed her neck, a slight grimace of pain replacing the yawn. “Good enough, I guess. I've made it through the night and that's all that matters really.” She let out a nervous giggle, “It's nice to sleep on a real bed for once. Stone floors just aren't my thing, you know?”

Slowly, she sat up and looked at Varric, memories stirring from the previous evening. Something inside was telling her something. Had she done something last night she'd regret? It sure felt like it. A memory stirred. A memory of her kissing Varric. Wait, she'd kissed Varric? She had, hadn't she? Or had she? Her face turned ablaze at the thought and she turned away, rubbing the back of her head and getting tangled in the process. Maker, her hair was a mess. Maybe it was worth getting it cut short?

“Are you hungry?”Varric asked, his voice laced with more worry than she expected. “Do you want me to get something brought up for breakfast?”  
“Are we not eating downstairs with the others?”  
“I... think we have some things to discuss.”

Hawke nodded, even though her stomach tightening at the thought. Her hands grabbed for the covers, drawing them further around her.

“Plus,” He added, “You don't seem too keen to get out of bed anyway.”  
“You got me there!” Hawke smiled, trying not to let those words worry her.

_Things to discuss... Things to discuss? What things?_

“Blood sausage sandwich?” Varric sighed, hauling himself to his feet.  
“How did you guess?” She laughed, “They don't have any though. I already asked.”  
He shrugged, “I called in a favour..” He smirked, putting on some spare clothes, “I'll be one moment.”

And with that, the door clicked shut, leaving Hawke alone in the room. Hesitantly, she looked around at the remnants of last night. She needed proof that she didn't dream it. Did she even want it to have been real? She felt her toes curl as she noticed her clothes crumpled in the corner. Okay, that could have been proof, but she had never been one for folding clothes, especially when drunk.

Sure, she had a hangover, but how many times had she been drunk in the presence of Varric and _not_ made a move? A scary amount of times, that's what. The more she racked her brain for memories, the less real it felt. _Was_ it a dream?

Maybe she'd said something to him. That was a possibility. A very real possibility. Shit, was that what Varric wanted to talk about?

She wished she had some alcohol up here, but she obviously hadn't thought that far ahead. Whatever _had_ happened, this wasn't going to be an easy conversation. It was almost too much for a hungover Hawke to cope with.

The door opened again, puling Hawke from her thoughts and Varric emerged with two blood sausage sandwiches and a sweet roll. Tentatively, he sat beside her, Hawke still finding it hard to meet his gaze.

“So...” He began, clearing his throat, eager not to waste any time, “ I think the first thing I should ask is if you remember what happened last night.”  
“I'm, um... not sure.”  
He nodded slowly, his hand tensing onto the plate. “Oh.”  
“I mean, I have a memory in my head, but it could have just been a very, very vivid dream.”  
“Care to tell me?”  
“I...em...” She giggled, accepting the food from Varric, “Well, I don't remember it all anyway. I think I cried on your shoulder?” Hawke sighed, face turning red.  
“Yeah, you fell asleep on my shoulder.” Varric smiled.  
“Sorry about that.”  
“Don't be.”

Hawke took a bite of her sandwich, trying to calm her swirling stomach. She could feel his gaze on her, that intense stare he always did when he was trying to gauge someone's emotions. Maybe he'd be able to tell how she was feeling right now. At this point, she honestly had no idea.

“We kissed last night, Hawke.” He spoke, softly.  
“Shit, I thought so.” Her eyes darted to his, hurt beginning to glaze over them. “I don't mean- fuck.” She let out a heavy sigh.

She'd already fucked up, hadn't she?

“How long have you...?” She mumbled, barely believing it herself, unable to push the rest of the words from her mind to her mouth.  
“Probably the moment I met you, it just took me a while to realise.”  
“And you would actually...?”  
“I still see you as a friend at the moment, Hawke. Only you saying that you'd want to pursue something together would change that.”

Hawke nodded, swallowing her sandwich, her heart pounding. Her thoughts swirled around her. This was it. This could make or break everything they had. Everything they could have.

She'd fantasised about confessing her feelings to him. She'd even anticipated all the different reactions he could have had, but this? This wasn't what she'd expected. And where was their relationship at now? Could they even consider themselves friends?

“I... I would like to be in a relationship with you... but you know I've never been in one before.” She sighed, “Maker, I don't know where to start.”  
“I've not been in a proper one for years.” He said, his eyes lowering to his clasped hands in front of him.  
“Is this where you're going to tell me Bianca was a real person?” She chuckled lightly, casting an eye towards the crossbow.

Varric's eyes shifted, and he swallowed down a lump of anxiety. He knew it was going to come up sooner or later.

“She _was_ a real person.”

Hawke fell silent, her eyes wide and lips pursed, as if questions would come tumbling out if she left her mouth open.

“I met her back when she lived in Kirkwall. It was doomed from the start, but we were young and naïve and didn't know the lengths rival Merchant's Guild houses would go to in order to keep the caste system.” Varric sighed, his bittersweet smile fading. “In the end it just didn't work out.”

Hawke's nodded, taking in this new information.

“Do you think it could work?” She mumbled, reaching a hand towards his, but stopping short. “Us... I mean.”  
“I'd usually say what's the harm in trying, but you're so important to me that I'd be distraught if I ever lost you.” He mumbled with a shrug.  
“I feel the same.”

There was a short silence that fell as they both ate some of their sandwich, smiling at each other as the realisation set in.

“What do... Where do we go from here?” Hawke sighed, unable to stop staring into Varric's soft golden eyes.  
“We... take things at our own pace. Heck, we're not even back in Kirkwall! I don't know about you, but I'd much rather we see the tail end of this mess of an expedition gone before we talk about things like this.”

Hawke nodded and set down the rest of her sandwich, finding she was maybe less hungry than she first thought.

“All I know is that I want to be with you, Hawke.” Varric continued, shuffling closer to Hawke and placing her hand on his shoulder, “That's all I want to come from this. Whether that's platonic or not. So shall we just... I don't know. See where it goes? It's a bit early to put a label on anything at this point, don't you think?”

A loud knock at the door made them both jump and Varric scrabbled for Bianca out of habit.

“Hey, you two! Fenris and I are more than ready to head out and get back home.”  
“Coming!” Hawke yelled, gathering her few possessions and backpack full of loot.

  
  


The half a day's travel back to Kirkwall was relatively uneventful. The group moved faster than they probably had in the whole expedition, the food and rest doing wonders for their aching bodies. Varric and Hawke kept completely quiet about what they'd spoken about earlier, even if they couldn't help sharing a few knowing looks.

It was strange coming back into the city again. Nothing ever seemed to change in Kirkwall and yet Hightown was almost overwhelming, considering they hadn't seen more than a few people at a time for a month? Two months? There was so many people, so much noise. She almost wished for the quiet of the deep roads. _Almost._ On second thought, maybe not.

“Home, sweet, home. Finally.” Varric sighed, breathing in the murky city air as they trod towards Lowtown. The look on his face seemed to suggest that he was no longer used to the city's 'distinctive' stench. “I wonder if Bartrand came back to the city. You think we'd be that lucky?”  
“I'm just glad we came back in one piece.” Hawke sighed, wondering if there was always this many steps.  
“Thankfully, we didn't come away empty handed. The treasure we found in that crypt outstrips Bartrand's stupid idol. He'll be green with envy when he finds out.” A smarmy smile spread over Varric's lips. “As soon as I get the chance, I'll look up my contacts to ensure we get the best price. I imagine you'll want to head home, tell your family the good news? We're going to be rich.”  
“I'm sure mother and Bethany will be happy.” She smiled.  
“Meet you all at the Hanged Man later?” Varric asked. “Bring the rest of the crew if you can find them. I need a good drink and a good game of cards.”  
“I may be passed out from exhaustion by then but...” Anders sighed before noticing Hawke's fallen face, “I'll see what I can do.”

  
  


The walk home was pleasantly familiar as Hawke trudged her way back. She had to admit, even Gamlen's grotty old house was a welcome sight after what she'd been through.

But as she climbed the stairs, she noticed that the door was open and unfamiliar voices were coming from inside. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating, her lungs unable to take in air.

She rushed inside to see a scene taken straight from her darkest nightmares. Bethany and her mother stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by Templars.

“What's going on?” She boomed.  
“Please don't do anything.” Bethany pleaded.  
“Mistress Bethany is being taken to the circle of magi in the gallows.”  
“Over my dead body.” Hawke spat, reaching for her blades and approaching the Templar.

This wasn't going to happen. Surely no-one would miss a Templar or two.

“It's done.” Bethany sighed, stepping between the two. “Don't make it worse.”  
“Consider yourselves fortunate.” The Templar's voice commanded, “Her cooperation allows us to spare you the punishment for harbouring a dangerous mage... this once.”  
“Oh, Bethany!” Her mother cried, “What will happen to you?”  
“Don't worry mother, I'll be fine.” She spoke, before turning to Hawke, “Look after her, big sister.”

Hawke nodded, clenching her fists to stop the tears from falling as Bethany looked back for one last time.

All those years, all their hard work, all their efforts and yet Bethany was taken away in the end. What was worse, death or the circle? Hawke just didn't know. All she could do was watch Bethany leave, the emotions welling inside her, but her mother just collapsed to the floor in a fit of sobs. She broke the most important promise she made to her dad before he died. Malcolm would be _so_ proud.

“My baby... why... why...” She uttered between sobs, “Why didn't you do something?”

Hawke tried to comfort her mother, but her own emotion prevailed. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she bit her lip to stop her sobs from escaping.

_Why did I argue with her so much? Why did I waste my time with her in pointless quarrels? Why did I take out my own fucking frustrations on her?_

“Marian...” Her mother sobbed, gripping on to her as if for dear life, “...you're all I have left... please... don't leave me...”  
“I won't leave you, Mother! We found so much treasure in the Deep Roads, more than we ever could have thought and once the money from that comes in, we'll have the money to get the manor back! We can rebuild our lives!”

Her Mother's sobs weakened and she allowed herself to be sat on a chair by the fire.

“It won't be the same without Bethany, though.”  
Hawke dug a fingernail into her skin to stop fresh tears escaping. “I know that, but she wouldn't want us to stay stuck where we are.”

Hawke looked at her mother, who gazed back with glazed, red eyes. The only way to describe the look on her face was disappointment. Hawke had to turn away and busy herself making tea. Maker only knew where Gamlen had gone off to.

 _She'd rather **you** got taken away. She thinks this is your fault. _Hawke told herself, staring blankly into the fire. _And she's probably right._

“Couldn't you have brought her with you?” Leandra muttered into the empty space between them.  
“A-and risked the darkspawn? Anything could have happened down there!”  
“I thought the point of the expedition was to get her out of the city.”  
“Yes, until you pleaded for me not to take her!”

Her mother didn't respond, she just stared blankly into the fire, her hand gripping onto the arm rest.

“Maker...” She mumbled, “Why did you take her from us? Why, Maker? Why?”

 _Yes._ Hawke thought, no longer sure whether she was being sarcastic or not, _Why wasn't **I** taken away? Why couldn't **I** have been born a mage so **I** could have been taken to the gallows?_

No. She needed to get out of here. She needed to be around people that wouldn't make her feel like the scum of the earth.

“I'm going to the Hanged Man.” She grumbled, swallowing down the remains of her grief and rising to her feet.  
“You- That's all you ever do, isn't it? You go to the Hanged Man to play cards and get drunk.”  
“Don't expect me back any time soon, mother.” She spat, slamming the door as she went.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually what happened to Bethany on my first playthrough. I thought I was keeping her safe! :(
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone for their kind comments! I was honestly blown away by all the support. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, still taking my time because I don't want to rush out mediocre chapters.


	12. Chapter 12

“Welcome home, you rascal!” Isabela cried, running for Hawke before she'd even made it through the doorway of the Hanged Man. The hug nearly threw her to the ground with the sheer force of it, but somehow she managed to stay upright, even if only just. “I'm so glad you made it back in one piece!”  
“You know I couldn't stay away.” She smiled, ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest.

Once Isabela finally relented, Hawke took the opportunity to take in the sight of her favourite tavern; quite possibly her favourite place in the world. Maker, had she missed this place. Sure, she hadn't expected the place to change, but seeing it again, exactly how she'd pictured it in her mind through many difficult nights, was nothing short of relief.

“I missed you the moment you left Kirkwall! It's been pretty dull without you, if I'm honest. Merrill's been good company,” Her eyes flickered over to Merrill, who was pleating the hair of a passed out dockworker, “But she's no Hawke.”  
“Well, glad to know I'm not expendable to some.”

She made her way to the usual table that they'd occupy which was now filled with friends and well-wishers. Drinks were already flowing, even Merrill had a glass of elderflower wine to herself. Even people they'd only seen in passing were here to celebrate their return, but they were probably just looking for a cut of the profits.

“Good work out there.” Fenris congratulated, a smirk, no, a smile on his face. A few months ago she wouldn't have even thought that possible.  
“Welcome back, Hawke!” Cried Merrill, skipping over to give Hawke a much less grappling hug than Isabela's, thankfully.  
“Congratulations, Hawke.” Said Aveline, raising a tankard, “I'm beyond relieved that you've returned to us unharmed.”

Maker, she'd _knew_ she missed this, but being back again really made it hit home. The atmosphere, the creaky chairs, the smell... hell, even the lukewarm piss they served, it was more a home to her than Gamlens' had ever been. Even Bethany loved the Hanged Man. Not the drinks or the blood on the walls, but she loved the company, the card games and the stories. The only person missing from this gathering was Bethany. She could never walk through that door again.

Was Bethany okay? Was she even still _alive_? Hawke swallowed down the bubble of fear with whatever drink had been thrust in front of her. Bethany was not just another sibling that Hawke had let down. Malcolm would be _so_ proud. Her nails embedded themselves in her palms, the pain the only thing keeping her from bursting into tears. No-one needed to see that.

“Everyone.” She croaked, standing up at the head of the table. “I'm afraid that I have some bad news.”

Heads turned to listen and a slight hush fell across their corner of the tavern. Holding back the tears suddenly got a whole lot more difficult.

“Bethany...” She swallowed the lump in her throat and started again, “While we were away, Bethany was tracked down by the Templars and taken to the circle.” Hawke glared at the table in front of her, forcing the words out, “I don't know if I'll ever see her again.”

Varric shot out of his chair and rushed towards Hawke. No, no, this wasn't happening. It just didn't make sense! He'd bribed all the right people enough people to keep her protected while we were away.

Hawke's face was torn in anguish, her fists clenched around her drink as she took a long, long drink. Words seemed to fail him as he approached her, the emotion on her face more raw than he'd ever seen, even on the precipice of possible death.

“Shit, all that work and yet Sunshine got taken away?” He managed.  
She scoffed. “Yeah.”  
“You okay?” He rested a hand on her shoulder but she immediately tensed at his touch, so he drew back.  
“Just... get me some whiskey. This isn't strong enough for the job.” She croaked, refusing to meet anyone's eyes or accept their words of condolences.  
“If that's what you want.” He sighed, pulling up a chair beside her and waving Norah over.

  
  


He didn't even want to know how many whiskeys she knocked back in quick succession over the course of the next few hours. To be honest, he didn't bother counting. The fact that the expedition was the current hot topic of conversation didn't exactly seem to help her mood. Recalling the betrayal didn't help his mood either, but at least he could gloss over the hurt with a few jokes and exaggerations. Two of the things he was best at.

Wicked Grace cards were dealt and handed out, but Hawke refused to even pick up her hand. People kept coming up to her, to give her congratulations and condolences but they seemed to fall on deaf ears, slipping further down her chair with every attempted conversation. The only time she made eye contact seemed to be when asking for another drink.

  
  


“You sure you're okay?” Varric asked once she seemed a little more mellow.

At the sound of his voice, her shoulders caved in on themselves and she slunk further into her chair, almost equal with the table now, her face enveloped in her folded arms.

“We finally did it.” She mumbled into her arm, so quietly that Varric had to lean towards her. “We made it to the Deep Roads and back, came home with more treasure than I ever imagined, enough to get the manor back...” She emerged from behind her arms, took a swig of her drink, throwing her head back, her bloodshot eyes meeting his, “And yet I feel like I've lost more by going than I would have if I stayed.”  
“You couldn't have stopped this from happening.”  
“I could have _not_ cracked jokes about it.” She spat through gritted teeth, each bitter word louder than the last. “I could have been a better sister. I could have not teased her to tears so many times to vent my own fucking emotions. She was my _only_ sister yet I couldn't even appreciate her when I actually had her?” She let out a snort that oozed self deprecation. “That's fucking messed up.”

She slunk even further down and brought a hand to her face. He thought it was probably a good idea to let her stew in her own emotions for a while. There wasn't much else to do with a drunk and emotional Hawke.

  
  


Eventually, she picked up her Wicked Grace hand, but she scrunched her nose at it and threw it back down. Must have been a bad hand. She joined in the next game though, but she still refused to talk, her moves sporadic, as if she'd forgotten all the tips that Varric had given her.

“Do you maybe wanna stay at mine tonight?” Varric spoke when she finally began nibbling at the basket of bread he'd been nudging towards her for hours now.  
“Sure...” Hawke sighed, finally meeting his eyes, body slowly swaying, her mouth twitching into an attempt at a smile. “I can't be arsed going home right now. I mean, things didn't exactly improve when I was away. I just... yeah, no. I can't face that place with Bethany gone.”  
“Say no more. I'm surprised you're not sick of me by now.”  
She snorted loudly and leaned into him, her head falling onto his shoulder, “I'd never get tired of you. You're stuck with me now!”

Well, there certainly _was_ worse things to be than stuck with Hawke.

“You flatter me.” He replied, “Next thing you know you'll be running away from me when my ego outgrows my height.”  
“Hasn't it already though?”  
“Ouch, Hawke!” Varric chuckled, “That's a rough one.”

She leaned in to Varric's ear, licking her lips, her hot breath tickling his ear in the most delicious way.

“I can be as rough as you like...” She whispered slowly and sat back up with a wink that was probably supposed to be sly. Let's just say that sly was the opposite of the word that came to Varric's mind.

Nonetheless, he still blushed and shook his head, not wanting the thought around pleasant company. He was desperate for some conversation about where they stood, but this wasn't the time nor the place for that.

“I don't think you should have any more to drink, Hawke.” He sighed, sliding her mug away, only to find it already empty.  
She shot him a look that would have been deadly if it wasn't punctuated by hiccups. “I'm only drinking enough for a good nights'-” She hiccuped again, her whole body heaving, “rest!”

She signalled for another before Varric could stop her.

 _Oh boy._ Varric thought to himself, _I'm going to be the one dealing with this yet again, amn't I?_

  
  


“You can do it, Hawke. That's it... one foot after the other.”  
“I can do it, Varric. I know... how steps work.” She slurred, shaking free of Varric's grip, “I've used stairs.... I was born on some stairs.... I'll die on some stairs.”

She tried to take a step forward, but within a second she was sprawled all over the stairs.

“Aaaaah. Shiiiiit.” She groaned, face down in what she hoped was just mead.  
“Let's get you up here.” He pulled Hawke to her feet and forcibly wrapped her hands around his shoulders. “One step at a time, my dear.”  
“Can we not... set up camp? We can make the rest of the way tomorrow, surely.” Hawke groaned, leaning against the wall.  
“If you make it up tonight then I will...” He racked his brains for something he could entice her up with “... Buy you a blood sausage sandwich for breakfast!”  
“You'll buy me one anyway.” She snorted.  
“You have the money to buy one for yourself now, Hawke.”  
“You'll buy me one anyway. I know what you're like...” She narrowed her eyes and wiggled a finger at him. “...Messere Tethras.”

She did have a point, especially with how little she ate during the Deep Roads. He'd be happy buying her sandwiches her whole life if it meant she'd never get that thin again. Shit, his bribes would have to be a hell of a lot more imaginative than that, wouldn't they.

“Tell you what, Hawke.” Varric muttered, lowering his voice, even though no-one would have been listening in. “I'll give you a kiss.”

In an instant Hawke's face lit up and she once again attempted to climb the stairs, her face strained in admirable concentration. This time, thankfully, she was successful in doing so. She watched him with eager eyes as he unlocked the door to his suite and wasted no time in stumbling her way to his bed. With a groan she flopped down, an expectant look on her face. Her hand fumbled and failed to take her boots off as she was too busy watching him with lidded, but less bloodshot eyes, swaying as if listening to an inaudible song. Dare he think it, she looked cute.

He joined her and took her boots off for her, taking his own off too, suddenly feeling naked under her blindingly blue gaze.

“Now, this is only a kiss Hawke. I'm not giving you anything else.”  
“I can't guarantee I'll be able to resist.”  
“I know I have that effect on people,” He chuckled, “But you're too far gone for anything else tonight.”  
“We'll see about that.” He sighed, brushing Hawke's hair from her face.

With all the shit that had gone on in the past day, she had forgotten how desperate she had been for his touch. Hawke's hands wandered to Varric's face, pulling him in closer until their lips met. She couldn't get enough of him, as if he was a thirst that couldn't be quenched as she pushed her tongue past his lips and into his mouth, unable to stop a moan escaping as his tongue greeted hers. Whatever little self control she had was now gone out the window, as if she had any to begin with.

A hand grappled at his tunic as she lay back, pulling him on top of her, the kiss ending for only a dragged-out second, the air electric between them, before crashing together even more feverishly. Fuck, this felt _right._ For once there was no doubt, no worry lingering in the back of her mind. She wanted to be his. The thought alone sucked the wind from her lungs, any other thoughts in her inebriated mind melting away until he was the only thing left. With new-found abandon, she grabbed onto his hand and boldly guided it towards the buckles of her armour. He seemed reluctant until she wound a hand into his hair and pushed his forehead to hers.

Varric had always thought that kissing out of armour was always better than kissing in armour, so taking it off was an obvious next step. The battered armour slid off her, revealing the expanse of pale, scarred skin underneath, now covered by only a breastband. She made the most phenomenal noises as he kissed and nibbled from her neck to her collarbone. He continued lower and lower, making a point to kiss each and every of one of her scars that he came across, travelling down the centre of her chest to her unsettlingly thin stomach, but he pushed the worry away and tried to lose himself to the moment.

With every touch, she moaned softly through bared teeth, biting her quivering lip, her skin soft and warm, comforting yet sensuous. Closing his eyes, he lost himself to the sensation, his mind drifting to another time, another place. He could have sworn she felt just like... Fuck, _fuck,_ no, this wasn't happening. Not now.

He sighed and withdrew once more, the memory of her burning behind his eyelids every time he blinked, his chest tight with a disgustingly familiar hurt. It wasn't fair on either of them, not if _she_ was going to be in the back of his mind.

“Varric?” Hawke murmured, as if half asleep, “Wha... What is it this time?”  
“Shit.” He grumbled, standing up and smoothening his hair down, forcing the loose strands back. Things were never going to be easy, were they?  
Her eyes struggled to focus on him in the dim light of the fire. “Are you okay?”

No reply.

She made a hearty attempt to sit up, but between the alcohol and the euphoria of the physical contact she couldn't quite manage. Instead, she rolled over to see Varric pacing back and forth, shaking his head.

“Did I... do something?” The self hatred and doubts came back with vengeance. This was yet another thing that was her fault, wasn't it? She'd fucked up yet again.  
“I...”

He took a moment to find the right words, struggling to let it sink in, but it needed to be said. He couldn't pretend it didn't happen.

“I'm... not quite sure if I'm over Bianca.”

There was a lengthy pause as both of them tried to take in the words that had just left his mouth.

“But...” Hawke began, finally able to sit up and focus on Varric's silhouette, brooding in the corner. “It _is_ over between you two... isn't it?” She watched as his figure nodded. “And she's not interested in you any more?”  
“We send letters, occasionally we'd meet up in secret, but I haven't seen her in a long... long time.”  
“I thought you said it was over between you two.”  
“We basically are.”  
“Basically? _Basically?_ ” Her fingers curled into the bedcovers as if the world was crumbling around her. “So you've never _actually_ called things off?”  
“We're not together, Hawke.”  
“But you still have feelings for her!”  
“I guess the heart wants what it wants.”  
“But...” She swallowed down a bitter, hot lump. “...does your heart not want me?”  
“Yes, I _do_ want you, Hawke.” He walked back over to Hawke, rubbing his forehead. “Up until a minute ago I hadn't even thought of her like that. We're just friends now.”

He sat back down and looked at Hawke, who shuffled away from him, snapping her face away from his.

“I'm really sorry, Hawke.”  
“ I just...” She scoffed at her own stupidity, at her naivety and foolishness. “This was what I had been hoping for for so long and I... I thought you were finally in my reach! I imagined us being _together_ , not just _being_ together.” She rubbed her face with her dry, scarred hands as she bared her teeth. “Maker, I'm such a fucking idiot!”  
He reached out a hand, intending to comfort her. “Hawke, I-” He began, but she sprung to her feet at his touch and scrambled for her things, her face contorted in anger.  
“Just shut up!” She cried. “Save it for someone who's going to listen to your bullshit.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Going home.” She spat.  
“Why in Maker's name are you going home? You're drunk! You'll get ambushed, you can't fight back tonight!” He reached for her again, but she slapped his arm away as if it burned.  
Tears threatened to escape from her eyes, turning the room into a shivering kaleidoscope. “I'd much rather get ambushed than sleep beside a _liar_.” She hissed, throwing a discarded cushion at him and hitting him square on the top of his head.  
“Hawke, let's just wait until you're more sober before we discuss this.”

What the fuck, was he even _listening_ to her!?

“Why? So you can make up some sort of lie? You... lying LIAR!”  
“Whoa, come on, Hawke! Calm down!”  
“No, _YOU_ calm down!” She screeched, lobbing another cushion, no longer able to see if she was hitting her mark through the tears.  
“Hawke, I didn't even realise this until minutes ago! Why are you acting as if I've been keeping this from you?”  
“I'm _done_ with liars! Come and see me when you're done being a lying liar, you... LIAR!”

And with that, she stuffed her boots on and slammed the door very satisfyingly behind her. She thundered down the stairs as quickly as her shaky, drunk legs would allow, mumbling profanities to herself and the drunks littered about, completely ready to storm right the way home. Fuck the consequences. Fuck mother and her need to blame her eldest for the ill fates of her children. Fuck Gamlen and his incessant need to bleed his family dry. Fuck Varric for giving her false hope and toying with her feelings.

“HAWKE!” A voice screeched from by the bar. She turned to see Isabela waving her over. “I thought you'd gone to bed!” She giggled as she approached. “Trouble in paradise?”  
“Trouble with lying liars more like!” She huffed, almost comically.  
“Whoa, sounds rough!” She offered Hawke her half empty bottle, “Want some?”

Hawke nodded and took a swig that would put a sailor to shame, finishing the bottle in one swift move, burning her throat almost as much as the tears burned her eyes.

“So...” Isabela began, “Do tell.”  
“Varric neglected to mention that he's still in a relationship with his ex.”  
“And why would that be a problem?” Isabela smirked, already knowing the answer of course. “You make it sound as if you two are together.”  
“Yes, well, not for much longer.”  
“Did you get some action in the Deep Roads then?”

No, she didn't want to think about the Deep Roads. She was perfectly happy pretending that the last two months or so hadn't happened.

Isabela's eyebrows furrowed and she scratched her cheek, deep in thought. “Well anyway, I think you need a distraction from all that. And all the other shit that's happened.”

So Bethany was already the nuggalope in the room. Great.

“Shall we do some good old fashioned bonding?” Isabela suggested, nudging Hawke in the rib. “You know, for old times' sake.”  
“What do you have in mind?” Hawke sighed, unable to stop her mouth twitching into a smile.

  
  


“Shhhh!” Isabela hushed loudly, “Are you ready?”

Hawke giggled uncontrollably, clutching her poor, already overworked stomach muscles as Isabela aggressively banged on the door of their first victim. They scarped in opposite directions, Isabela hid behind a rock half the size of her and Hawke an especially slender tree.

After a few minutes of muffled giggles, Fenris eventually opened the door with an exasperated sigh.

“I can see you two idiots.” He grunted. “This prank hasn't worked on me.”  
“Maybe try smiling for once!” Yelled Isabela.

At this point Hawke was rolling on the floor heaving and snorting, tears leaking from her eyes. Fuck, it felt good to laugh so freely.

“You know, I'd be more willing to smile if it wasn't currently so early in the morning.” Fenris rubbed his eyes, “If you have no more business here then I'm afraid I shall have to encourage you to take your business elsewhere... maybe to the mage, if you feel so inclined.”  
“Fenris you genius!” Cried Isabella, grabbing Hawke by the hand and leading her down the nearest shortcut to Darktown.

  
  


“Can it be my turn now?” Hawke sniggered as they reached the door to Anders' clinic.  
“Be my guest!”

Hawke drew her foot back and kicked at the door, but her foot was met with a crunch.

“Shit!” She howled, noticing that she had, in fact, left a sizable hole in the door. “RUN!”

Before they could even run a metre, though, Anders appeared at the door.  
“Fuck! Abandon ship!” Isabella cried.  
“Oi!?” Anders cried, lethargic and confused.

They sprinted around the nearest corner and slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe from the laughter and adrenaline. A few people looked at the pair as they passed by, but no-one would question them. Not in Darktown, at least.

“I think...” Hawke wheezed, “...We should call it a night.”  
“You sure I can't encourage you to partake in one more?”

Hawke shook her head. She'd barely been able to breathe from laughter for too long now. Maybe she'd caused some lasting damage. Even if so, it was worth it. “Thanks though. I really needed this.”

Isabela smiled and nodded slowly, her mind obviously caught up in something.

“What is it?”  
A saucy smile spread over Isabela's face. “You know the first thing I thought when I saw you?”  
“What?”  
“Oh, Maker! I'd love to bang her!”

Hawke snickered at this, her whole body shaking from the weight of the mirth. Between the alcohol and the pranks and the fact that she was going to be considerably richer than her wildest dreams, she felt happier than she had in months, even with all the shit that life continued to pile on her. Isabela really was a blessing.

“But you know what,” Isabela continued, “I'm glad I didn't.”  
“Hey! I take offence from that!” Hawke snorted, “I'm the most bangable creature on earth!”  
“Oh yes, definitely!” Isabela retorted.

Their laughter eventually faded into a comfortable silence.

“Welcome home.” Isabela smiled, leaning a head on her shoulder.  
“It's so fucking good to be back, you don't even know.”

Somehow, Hawke crawled back onto her feet and helped Isabela up and they stumbled back to the Hanged Man, making a detour or two on the way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric, what have you doneeeee!?!?! 
> 
> I think from this point on I'm going to aim for a chapter a month at least. I have so many unfinished DA fics it's not even funny any more and yet I'm thinking up more? I must be stopped -_-
> 
> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments. It means the world to me to know that other people enjoy my hectic scribbles haha. Next chapter around the end of April?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't stop me starting scenes with the main character(s) waking up

“Hawke!”

She awoke with a start, the sound of her own name crashing through her skull. The room spun around her. Shit, she was still drunk, wasn't she?

“I know you're in here!” A familiar voice cried out again.

She yawned and somehow managed to sit up, holding her pounding head. It was damn near impossible to tell where she was, but the smell indicated the Hanged Man.

“Coming.” She grumbled, desperate just to make the banging stop.

The dim light of the tavern was almost blinding as she opened the door, nausea washing over her. It was Aveline that greeted her, a rather exasperated grimace plastered to her face.

“Morning...” Hawke murmured, attempting to raise a hand to wave, but giving up and letting it flop back to her side.  
Aveline let out a deep sigh. “Do you remember what you and Isabela got up to last night?”  
“Eh...” That was a good question, actually. “Fenris was there?”  
“You committed several felonies last night, Hawke. What were you thinking? Do you know how much paperwork I've had to do and strings I've had to pull to clear you of this?”  
“No?” Hawke mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

It had been a while since she'd had a rant from Aveline and she was surprised to think that she'd actually missed it. Aveline probably hadn't though, sighing in that exasperatedly mothering way that seemed to be becoming a habit.

“Let's just say it's a lot. I think you should at least apologise to Anders for breaking his door.”  
“Oh shit, what?”  
Aveline lowered her voice before continuing, “I mean I know that Isabela is a good friend of yours, but if you really _have_ to partake in excessive alcohol consumption, _please_ don't let her be the one to choose the evenings' activities.”

Hawke nodded, biting back a smirk from spreading over her face. No need for more lecturing.

“But I'll leave you to get back to your... recovery.”  
“Thanks Aveline. I appreciate it.”

Hawke left the door ajar to let a little light in, finally recognising where she as. So it was Isabela's room? Speaking of Isabela, she was sprawled out on the bed, face down and lifeless. It must have been a good night.

“Hawke?” Came a muffled voice.  
“Yeah?”  
“What did we even _do_ last night?”  
“Apparently we kicked in Anders' door.”  
“Wait, really?”  
“Yeah! Aveline was just here talking about it.”  
“Oh, I bet she was like 'Fun bad! Paperwork good!'.”  
“You know she's not really like that. If it wasn't for her then we'd have fines to pay.” A fierce yawn tore its way out of her as she threw herself onto Isabela's bunk. “I'm just grateful she's on our side.”  
“Well, we'll honour her by putting the money we would have spent on fines on alcohol tonight.”

Hawke rubbed her eyes and another yawn broke free. What she wouldn't give to go back to sleep.

“I don't mean to pry, but what happened between you and Varric last night?”  
“It doesn't matter.”

It couldn't have been as serious as she first thought. It explained why he wasn't bothered about finishing things with Bianca. Why break off a relationship if you're just going to have a casual thing with a friend? So this _was_ a casual thing, right? Because she couldn't _do_ casual things. Maker, what had she gotten herself into?

“It doesn't sound like it doesn't matter to you. Seriously, what's happened? Is it about Bethany?”

Fuck, she'd almost forgotten about her sister. The one she'd let down. The one that may be rotting in the basement of the Gallows for all she knew.

“No, nothing to do with Bethany.” The name burned the back of her throat.  
“Then what?”  
“I eh, misunderstood Varric.” She let out a forced chuckle, “Just a misunderstanding, that's all.”  
“What was the misunderstanding?” Isabela prodded.

Hawke lowered her head, she knew Isabela's reaction was only going to make her cringe.

“I thought Varric, em, wanted to be in a relationship. With me.”  
“Wait... have you and Varric actually-”  
“N-Nothing serious!” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.  
“And when was this? In the Deep Roads?” Isabela chortled uncontrollably at her own awful pun.  
“Maker, no! We haven't even done much!”  
“How far have you two gone then?”  
“All I'll say is; you could get further at the Blooming Rose with a few silvers.”  
“So you think he doesn't want to be with you?”  
“I'm pretty sure, yeah...” Isabela turned her head up to look at her. “What's that look for?”  
“He didn't say though, did he?”  
“No, but I just...” She   
“Are you going to speak to him?”  
She couldn't just ignore her best friend, could she? “I guess I have to.”

  
  


Varric lay, staring at the ceiling. He'd been barely able to sleep a wink, between running around after Tweedledum and Tweedledee and dealing with the aftermath of last night.

Why did Bianca have to follow him wherever he went? For years now he'd thought he was over her, he was used to seeing her as just a friend. Even when a letter would arrive from her, or the rare times that she would visit he'd thought that he had been able to keep his heart closed from her. Reasoning that this was only out of habit and a need for comfort. Nothing more.

_The heart wants what it wants._

He _did_ want Hawke though, he needed her more than he'd even realised. He didn't want to lose her over something like this. She was something that could be real, not hidden away, ashamed of. She wasn't some whim or flight of fancy.

Well, shit.

He decided he needed something to line his stomach, nausea was beginning to settle in. He rose from his bed and attempted to make himself look somewhat presentable. To whom? He didn't know.

“What'll it be, Varric?” Edwina asked as he sat down, “Blood sausage sandwich?”  
“No thanks. Some bacon and eggs please.” He handed her a few coins that she took and disappeared to the back room.

All the daytime regulars were here and yet it didn't seem as busy as usual. He drummed his fingers, trying to stave off the hunger and quieten his thoughts.

Hawke was still going to be mad at him, but he did the right thing... didn't he? And anyway, they were drunk, so going any further wouldn't have been good and not after what had happened to Sunshine. With all of her family shit going on, she needed her best friend more than ever. Would she even speak to him now?

Worrying on an empty stomach never did anyone any good, though. As he tore himself from his thoughts, he noticed someone walked quickly past his table, hurrying to the door. They looked a little like Hawke actually. Oh, wait-

“Hawke!” He called out, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she just continued walking straight to the door.

Andraste's tits! She was definitely still mad.

“Your breakfast.” Edwina smiled, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.  
“Thanks.”

He began tackling his breakfast when a familiar voice cried out his name. So much for a peaceful breakfast.

“And good morning to you too.” Varric moaned as Isabela plonked herself on the bench beside him.  
“I have a message from a certain someone.”  
“Oh?”  
“They said they'll come to speak to you later, they're just taking some time for themself. They have a few errands to run.”  
“And did this mysterious person tell you what business she would have with me?”  
“I am sworn to secrecy,” Isabela smirked.  
“You? Secrecy? That'll be the day, won't it?”

She raised a hand to her forehead and imitated a pained expression.

“I myself would come to your room...” She sighed theatrically, “But unfortunately for you, I am needed elsewhere.”  
“Okay, okay. I'll be in my room. Tell that to your _friend_.”

Isabela took a strip of Varric's bacon and strolled off.  
“Hey! Don't forget you owe me for cheating in Wicked Grace. That bacon just adds to the debt!”

Isabela waved a hand as she disappeared up the stairs once again. He didn't even need to see her face to know that she wore a triumphant grin.

  
  


Hawke strolled into Anders' clinic. If she'd gotten here a bit earlier then she could have saved herself having to apologise in front of a clinic full of people. True to Aveline's word, a new foot-sized hole decorated the entrance. _Whoops._

Anders was healing a very badly broken leg, so she leaned beside the wall and waited for a spare moment. How Anders could stand to see so many of his own countrymen starving and broken down was truly beyond her.

“Oh, hey Hawke!” Anders smiled, approaching her.  
“Hey Anders. I'm here to be examined.” She winked.  
“Hawke...” Anders sighed.  
She remembered, for once, the fact that she said she wouldn't flirt. “Too much?”  
“A little.”  
“Sorry.” She lowered her eyes and noticed a small brown cat twirling around his legs. “Oh! Who's this?”  
“She doesn't have a name yet. She came in the hole in the door last night and hasn't left. She's not quite Sir-Pounce-A-Lot, but she's very sweet. She keeps tripping me up though.”

Hawke kneeled down and and cooed, “Here puss, puss, puss!” The little cat meowed, but continued winding around Anders.  
“I guess she's made her decision then.” Hawke sighed and stood back up, ready to take on the matter in hand. “I want to apologise for kicking your door in. I don't even remember doing it.”  
“You don't?”  
“I was drunk... and with Isabela.”  
“I really should have guessed as much... No harm done though, at least there's a silver lining to this story.”

The cat meowed and lay down on his feet. He looked down with amused annoyance, reluctant to move his feet with how comfy the cat seemed.

“How are you holding up after the deep roads?” Hawke asked.  
“Fine, fine! Just throwing myself back into my work. Helps get my mind off it I guess.” He lowered his voice, “What about you, Hawke?”  
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “Not too bad, myself.”  
Anders squinted his eyes. “Are you sure?”  
“Yes?”  
“With Bethany-” Her face turned sour in an instant and he relented. “And you had nightmares every night of the expedition.”  
She blew a raspberry. “Not _every_ night! No need to exaggerate.”  
He shook his head and sighed, “Justice heard you stirring and speaking in your sleep. He could sense your terror.”  
“Well, I've had a good night's sleep-”  
“And your illness?”  
“All better! As if by magic!”  
His face looked no less puzzled, “Still no idea what it was?”  
“I thought you were supposed to be the healer.” She shrugged.

He sighed and shrugged himself, Hawke shifting her eyes, cautiously. She watched Anders try once more to remove the lethargic cat from on top oh his feet.

“Anders... Please don't tell anyone else.”  
“About what?”  
“The illness, the night terrors... any of the shit that went on down there.” Hawke begged, her voice low, “I don't want the others to know. Sympathy definitely hasn't done me any favours. Varric's been helping me through the shit that's been going on in my head and I think he's the best person for the job.”  
“Oh, I see.” He pursed his lips and shook his head, “Well, I'm just glad you have someone looking out for you.”  
“And what does that make you? A chair? A pie?”

He smiled and finally moved his feet out from under the sleeping cat.

“I'll let you get back to your work then. You up for a run around town any time soon?”  
“I don't have much time at the moment, but I'll see what I can do.”

Next on the agenda was Fenris.

  
  


The crowds of Hightown were still a little overwhelming, so she was glad to turn away from the crowds and up the stairs to the Hightown estates. She passed the Amell estate as she went and thought what it might be like to live somewhere like this. Somewhere with greenery.

Fuck, she really did miss Lothering.

“So I see you are here to play another round of 'knock-on-the-door-and-run-away'?” Fenris grumbled through the ajar door. He couldn't exactly be so bold about squatting in a manor in the middle of the day.  
“Ha ha ha.” Hawke laughed, sarcastically, “Can I come in? I got given some wine as a gift for saving someone's life... I forgot who though.” She waved the bottle in his face, “Anyway, I thought you'd maybe want some?”  
“If you must.” He sighed, but the slight smirk that ghosted his lips showed he was ecstatic about seeing his favourite hungover mess. Probably.

“Take a seat.” He grumbled as they reached the sitting room and produced two wine glasses, wiping one with a cloth.

Hawke opened the bottle as she sat down, legs sprawled out. The novelty of actual human sized chairs was probably never going to wear off, was it?

“What's been going on with you since returning from the expedition?” Hawke asked, watching him pour the wine.  
“The usual.” He said, passing her a glass of wine, almost full to the brim. “Styling my hair, painting my nails, perfecting my Orlesian dancing. What about you?”  
Hawke snickered into her glass. “The usual for me too, I guess.”  
“Interesting that you should say that... Because I've heard that something may be going on between you and someone.”

Hawke's eyes bounced from Fenris, down to the wine and back to Fenris. She tried to keep her face blank. Someone couldn't survive as a slave all their life without being good at reading people.

“I was surprised, personally.” He continued, “I'd thought that you were interested in me.”

No, this wasn't happening!?

“Just kidding.” He smirked, “You _do_ know that I can play pranks too.”  
“Don't do that!” She groaned. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”  
“So... _is_ there someone that has captured your affections?”

Hawke tried to regain her neutral expression, but her mask slipped.

“Let's change the subject, shall we?” She pleaded. “Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?”  
“I saw the way you looked at Varric in the Deep Roads.”

Hawke took a long gulp of her wine, admiring the wonky picture at the other side of the room.

“You can't- I just- I _was_ ill, remember?”  
“You were very physically close to him.”  
“Fine.” She sighed, too tired and hungover to continue the denial. “It's not really anything serious, though. We just enjoy each others' company, that's all.”  
“Well then, cheers to that.”

It was strange how alcohol never tasted quite as good when hungover. The wine was nice though, and the company was good, too. Out of everyone she knew, Fenris' sense of humour was closest to hers; dark and twisted. _And_ he had a good selection of wine, which was handy, as the bottle she brought didn't last long. Good thing Fenris had some bread in the manor. She didn't need to get plastered to nights in a row.

“I hope you don't have anywhere to be.” He sighed, returning from the wine cellar with another bottle.  
“What time is it?”  
“After seven.”  
“Oh shit! I should be heading back.”

She jumped to her feet and strapped her daggers back on. Not that she was really sober enough to use them, but being armed was at least a bit of a deterrent.

“Thank you for coming, Hawke. It's nice to know at least one person doesn't find me intolerably broody.”  
“Was it Anders that told you that you were intolerable?” She giggled, finishing the last of her wine. “Don't listen to him, he's just jealous because he can't pull off the broody look like you can.”

She jauntily walked through the streets of Hightown, watching the low sun cast a shadow. She had enjoyed the past few hours so much she had forgotten about the argument with Varric. She steadied her thoughts and took a deep breath.

She needed to stick with the facts, she thought. Varric was still in love with Bianca and Bianca was... shit, she didn't even know anything about her, did she? She didn't even know what she was up against.

She sighed, starting down the first flight of steps towards the Hanged Man.

This can only go two ways then. Either they could decide to continue on, see where it goes and hope that it's worth it and that neither of them will get hurt... Or they cut their losses before any of that can happen and they go back to being friends and she could go back to believing that no-one could be worth the risk.

First things first, though, she'd need something to take the edge off. She'd sobered up on the walk a little too much for her taste.

With a shot or two of whiskey in her, she made her way up the stairs to see Varric. As usual, he was at his table, sorting through a mountain of paper and vellum, although this time it was almost literally up to his eyes. Poor guy.

“Who is it?” He grumbled, eventually looking up, “Oh.”  
“Good evening.”  
“I take it you're here to talk?”

She nodded, watching as he put his quill back and motion for her to sit down.

“You're not going to throw any more pillows at me, are you?” He chuckled, a feeble attempt to hide his worry.  
“Don't worry, this is going to be a civil conversation.” She sighed, slumping into the nearest chair, enveloped by her shoulders.  
“Do you want a drink?”  
She scrunched her nose lightly, still reeling from the whiskey and wine. “In a bit. I had wine at Fenris' already.”  
“Fair enough.” He rose to his feet and reached for his personal brandy collection, taking down a favourite of his.  
“Varric, I...” She waited for his gaze to meet hers before continuing, “I get it that you still have feelings for Bianca-”  
“Let me stop you there, Hawke.”

She bit her lip, wishing she had a drink now. A buffer, something to keep her hands busy and her mind calm. She watched as Varric walked closer to her, his face agonized.

“I'm really sorry it came out like that. I thought I'd left my feelings for her behind a long time ago... I understand if it changes how you feel about us.”  
“I know I maybe got a bit angrier than I had any right to get, but when you said it was over with her, I thought you meant it was _over._ No letters, no contact, no nothing.”  
“We're only friends, Hawke. Sure, we send letters, but nothing could happen between us. She's married now, anyway.”  
“Oh.”

Right... that was something? The realisation was a bit of a kick in the chest to be honest. So maybe she _had_ got it wrong?

“Okay. I-” She cleared her throat, “I didn't know that. So you two are just friends?”  
“Just friends.” He repeated.

She met Varric's solid gaze as he walked towards, her heart pounding, face flushed.

“Well, you two _aren't_ involved any more so I guess I have no reason to worry.”  
“You don't know how happy you've made me.” He sighed, a wide smile breaking free.

Varric entwined his hand with hers as they leaned in closer, almost tentatively. With Hawke sitting on the awkward stone seat and Varric standing, he had the height advantage for once. Their lips met softly in the middle and she couldn't help but moan softly as his stubble grazed her face.

This wasn't like last time, though, there wasn't such a wall of alcohol between their feelings. There wasn't lust between this kiss, it was trust. It wasn't frantic, as if they would be pulled apart any second. This was slow, understanding and heavy with feeling.

Fuck, why did she wait so long?

She was the one to withdraw from the embrace first, licking her lips and letting go of his hand.

“That's some rather nice brandy you've got there.” She smirked, “Mind if I have some that isn't second hand?”  
“Help yourself. My brandy is your brandy.”

She poured herself some into Varric's glass, much to his comedic distaste.

“Can't you get your own glass?” He pretended to scoff.  
“If your brandy is my brandy then my germs are your germs.” She cocked an eyebrow and took a slow sip, “Or are you going to do something about that?”  
“My... my...” He purred, sweeping a loose strand from her face, “After the other night I would have thought you were done with seduction.”

She bit her lip and took another sip from the glass, watching Varric fold his arms. A memory suddenly flashed before her eyes, of Varric's taught muscles that were now hidden only by his tunic. Her face burned as she took yet another sip, and tilted her head, forcing her eyes to stay above the neck.

“What's this? Are you getting _flustered_?”  
“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes in a feeble attempt to keep them from his chest as he walked towards her once more and took the glass from her and took a drink, before he set it down.

Now was her chance. Her hand up and grabbed at his collar, the velvet soft under her hand as she pulled him in once more, maybe a little too forcefully this time. He stumbled and fell almost perfectly onto her leg, their teeth lightly clashing, but the kiss wasn't broken for one moment. If anything, it only made them more feverish.

Varric grasped at Hawke's waist with one hand and the back of her head with the other, pulling her in closer. His tongue slid into her mouth, almost taking her by surprise. She took his lip between her teeth and nibbled a little, getting a short, deep moan as a reward. She could feel her heartbeat quickening still as she smoothened her hand up and down his firm, muscular chest, tracing a line from his necklace, right down to his belt, where she could feel no further.

 _Maybe I do have a type...._ She mused to herself as she tightened the grip on his arm, surprised that she could even string a coherent mental sentence together.

After what felt like forever and also only a moment, they relented and drew back, leaving them both breathless. They looked at each other with disbelief, lust shining in their eyes. She took a deep breath, praying he wouldn't notice how damn nervous she was. Varric leaned in once more and Hawke expected another kiss, but he went straight for her neck.

“Hawke...?” He whispered slowly into her ear. She could feel a tingle run the length of her spine and she squirmed lightly. Any ability to think coherently was now straight out the window.  
“Ahhaahhmmm...?”

Even if she wanted to squirm, the weight of Varric on her lap was enough to keep her firmly in place. She could feel the brandy start to have an effect on her, her thoughts turning awfully improper. So many things she wanted him to do. Things she wanted to do to him.

He whispered again in his low, drawn out words, “Would you mind...”  
 _Maker, I'll do anything you ask if you ask me like that!_ Hawke thought, her grip on him tightening.  
“...if I removed a little of your armour? It may be your lighter stuff but it's starting to dig in.”

She nodded obediently and Varric went to work taking it off. Those buckles and straps couldn't stand a chance against his nimble fingers. In seconds the armour was slumped by the side of the chair, leaving only a light linen shirt covering her chest.  
“Much better.” He smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist.  
“Shall we maybe... take things to the bedroom?” Hawke asked, her legs feeling strained under Varric's weight.  
“As you wish, my lady.”

He stood up and Hawke did the same, bending over to stretch her crushed legs and take her boots off.

“Nice view.” She could hear Varric chuckle from his bed.  
“You can get a better one if you ask nicely.” She retorted.

She stood back up and downed the rest of the brandy from the glass.

_Maker keep me sane. He's going to be my undoing._

She joined him on the bed with an exaggeratedly puzzled look on her face.

“What's wrong?” He asked, the smirk on his lips fading, his eyes darting between hers.  
“You're just far too dressed for my liking. That _must_ be remedied.”  
“Cheeky.”  
“And here I was thinking you knew me!”

Varric began untying his belt and Hawke watched, mesmerized.

“You _can_ help, you know.”  
“I'd rather leave this to the professional...” She smiled, giving him a brief, but passionate kiss.

The belt slid to the floor with a satisfying clunk, making Hawke jump a little.

“You okay?”  
“Fine...” She sighed, pulling at his tunic, “Well, I will be when this comes off.”  
“As you wish.” He said, a cheeky wink, raising the tunic above his head.

Her eyes widened in delight as his full torso and arms came into view. She began tracing the lines with her fingers, up and down.

“I can't help but notice that _maybe_ you like my muscles.”  
“However did you notice?” She blushed.

He leaned into her neck once more and Hawke's breath died in her throat, replaced by a quiet moan.

“What about your trousers?” He mumbled, the low vibrations shooting straight between her legs, “Are they staying on?”

She looked down at them. Her safety barrier. Things always went to shit as soon as they came off. He couldn't know. Maybe he'd be different, but was a risk she wasn't ready to take. Not yet, anyway.

“Maybe,” She swallowed, “Maybe later. And if they do, I don't want any...” She motioned around her upper legs and crotch, “... touching around here.”  
“I agree.” He nodded, kissing her on the shoulder, “Let's take it slowly for now.”

Those words were easier said than done with the wine, whiskey and brandy coursing through her system. She wanted no more than to rip off her trousers and let passion take over as he kissed and caressed her neck and shoulders, but fear kept them on.

A few times she could feel his hands would wander to her legs and her butt and she'd tense without warning, but he must have felt it too as they wouldn't stay there for long.

He pulled her in closer yet, their lips meeting as her legs ending up on either side of him, straddling his- Okay, yes, that was definitely there. Deliciously soft groans escaped from Varric of their own accord, strained and drawn out. Hesitantly lowered herself more, feeling the strain of his dick through the trousers and smallclothes.

“Fffffuck...” He growled, eyes clenched shut as a look of strained bliss swept over his face.

His hands gripped into her hips, willing her further down. So much for taking things slowly. Not that she was complaining... yet. A hand of his unclasped her hip and made its way to the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss.

As nice as this was, though, she could feel her energy dipping, heaviness drooping her eyelids. All that alcohol was starting to catch up with her.

“Varric.”  
“Mhm?”  
“I em, I'm a bit tired.”  
“Do you want to stop?”  
“Yeah.”

She briefly kissed him once more before climbing off and lying back on the bed, a yawn breaking free.

“Can I stay over?”  
“Do you _really_ need to ask that?”  
“I guess not.” She giggled as she wiggled under the covers.

She watched Varric as he rose to blow out the candles, his eyes watching hers as much as she watched his.

“Are you okay?” He asked, blowing out the last candle, light no longer assaulting her eyes.  
“How many times have you asked that?” She mumbled.  
“I've asked that already?”  
“I think so?”

Her brain was muddled, sleep coming soon and she couldn't delay it much further. The last thing she felt was his arms around her, warmth and then she was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn Ailsa, back at it again with the new chapter!  
> Sorry there's been so long between updates, I'm trying to find that middle ground between forcing myself to write and not setting out enough writing time. It's a lot easier said than done when life has been so up and down -_- I'm going to try to put out a chapter a month, but I don't want to set anything in stone atm. 
> 
> Again, thank you for all the support, it really, really means a lot to me to know that there's people that actually enjoy my writing! <3


	14. Chapter 14

For the first few moments of conciousness, the room was unfamiliar and- _what was that against her back?_

“Hawke?” The calm voice was heavy with sleep, bringing with it an instant recognition and a weight off her chest. “You okay?”  
“Yeah.” She mumbled, a smile spreading unapologetically across her face. “Better than okay.”

It must have been the deepest sleep she'd had in a long time because she could barely remember a thing. An arm draped itself over the covers on her waist and the heat pooling in her stomach sparked a memory from last night. And alcohol couldn't be completely blamed this time. The heaviness in her head told her she'd _maybe_ had a bit much. But she hadn't drunk that much. Not _really_.

“You, em, sleep well?” She mumbled, hoping he wouldn't notice how flushed her face had become.   
“No complaints.” He sighed, not even bothered trying to hide the smile in his voice. “What about you?”

She searched her brain for memories of waking up in the night, but found none.

“Yeah.” She breathed, trying to ignore the tickle of Varric's breath at her neck. “Um, good.”

She turned onto her back and looked at him, his eyes still crusted from heavy sleep, his stubble shading his face framed by loose strands of hair. Sure, she'd looked at him freshly woken before, but she'd never let herself think how fucking cute he looked. Until now. She could kiss him now, too, couldn't she? Maker, the thought was dizzying and impossible to resist.

A hand wound itself into his hair, pulling the remains free of the tie. In return, his hand slipped from over the covers to under, cool against her hip. The movements of their bodies were lazy and slow, but the kiss was anything but.

When they finally pulled apart, the easy smile on his face had faded, in place of something she couldn't quite read.

“What's wrong?” She mumbled, forcing her hand not to clench into his shoulder.  
“Your breath,” he wheezed, “It stinks!”  
She blushed and rolled her eyes. “Hey! Yours is nothing to write home about.”

Her head rested on his chest, his arm curling around her. Hearing the beating of his chest, smelling his musky smell, touching for the sake of touching? Yeah, she could get used to this.

“Any night terrors?” He mumbled into her hair, planting a soft kiss.  
Hawke gingerly shook her head, “Not that I remember.”  
“Good...” He nodded. “And how do you feel? About us?”  
“I'm happy.” Her eyes met his and her smile widened further. “Very happy.”  
“I'm glad.”

They lay in silence, Varric playing with Hawke's hair, twirling it around his fingers. Hawke listened to Varric's gentle breathing, taking in his warmth and the ambience of the room. She had to stop herself falling asleep a couple of times. The outside world seemed so distant, so unreachable in that moment.

“You know... I'm glad we talked last night.” Hawke admitted, looking up at Varric, meeting his soft, honey coloured gaze.  
“Me too.” He sighed, his eyes crinkling ever so softly.

He pressed another soft kiss on the top of her head and she had to stop herself from squealing. _Squealing_? Maker's breath, she was a grown woman!

“You know, this is what I've missed the most.” Varric sighed, his voice so light it could be swept away, “Just... _being_ with someone.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Aah, of course there was.

“Um excuse me?” A squeaky voice interrupted. “S-serrah, Tethras? I have information for you! Y-you said to bring it immediately so I came as fast as I could!”  
“Aah, shit. I guess the business day starts early.” Varric moaned, rising from the bed and scratching the back of his neck, “Feel free to stay in bed as long as you want.”  
“Tempting... but I think I'll have a wander around the city. Seems like it's going to be a nice day.”  
“That's code for 'go do some odd jobs for people who pay you pittance', isn't it?”  
“You know me too well.”  
“And Hawke?”  
“Uhhuh?”

He reached out to stroke her face, bringing her ever so subtly closer for a peck on the cheek. Of course he would. Hawke retaliated with a kiss on the lips. He softened into it, his thumb still stroking circles on her cheek and the other on the small of her back.

Maker, this – _this –_ was better than a cool pint.

It was over all too soon though, the distance between them completely unwanted.

“Let me know if you have any jobs going and you need someone to kick some ass. I already wouldn't mind a break from this.”

He pulled the curtain closed as he went. Strange, she'd never seen it closed before. She had no idea it was even there. Her armour was shrugged back on, knives located and sheathed, boots strapped and slunk out of his room, hoping that she'd be mistaken for a contact. Not that she was ashamed of him or anything, quite the opposite, really. It was just... easier that way.

The Hanged Man was much the same as usual. She didn't feel like breakfast today, so instead she was about to stride out through the door. But not without a quick visit to the bar.

“So?” Isabela smirked, sliding up to Hawke, “I've not seen you all day.”  
“All _day?_ It's morning, Isabela.”  
A smirk crept across Isabela's sultry features. “I think you'll find it's past noon. Was he good? He was, wasn't he? Did he knock you out?”

She couldn't stop the smile spreading from ear to ear, even with her hand in the way.

“I'll take that as a yes, then. And has he forgotten about that Bianca?”  
“Do you really think I'd ask 'Hey Varric, have you forgotten about Bianca yet?”  
“Well... I guess. How was he in bed? Did he show you that Dwarven stamina? Did he delve into your Deep Roads?”  
“I-Isabela!” She cried, face turning pink.  
“What?” She smirked. “He did, didn't he?”  
“I'd rather not say.”  
“You'd rather not say _? That's_ not the Hawke I know. Did you fall asleep or something?”  
“We're taking things slowly, Isabela.”  
“Ugh, but why would you do that? Better to know now sooner than later if you're compatible in bed.” She went to take a drink, but lowered it again quickly. “And anyway, I thought that only ever happened in books.” Isabela's face lit up, “Has he written any smut before?”  
“I don't know. His publisher was telling him to branch out into other genres.”  
“Well, maybe he just needs some inspiration.”

Hawke rolled her eyes and finished her drink. Strange; she hadn't even remembered ordering one.

  
  


And thus, they had fallen back into the relationship they had had before the Deep Roads, just with a little more intimacy.

In all honesty, not much had changed; Hawke still stayed every night, they'd play Wicked Grace and drink until they fell into bed to sleep. Sometimes Hawke would distract him from his ledgers with stupid jokes and cheap drinks and then they'd awake and maybe kick some under-city ass. The only difference was now they'd fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up with a kiss. Not that she didn't feel safe or anything, but there was something unsettling. As if the ground under her feet could crumble at any time.

It was silly, really. There was nothing to be unsettled about. She had what she wanted... didn't she? It was all very... strange. Or at least to Hawke. After so long of wanting him close to her, wishing they could be more than friends, actually having him was dizzying.

“Hawke?”

She snapped out of her daydream to see the gang around her, cards out and money thrown in the middle of the table. Shit, it was her turn, wasn't it?

“Just thinking.” She mumbled, trying to remember what card she'd intended to play. Aah, screw it. She put down a card and hoped for the best.

“Distracted?” Isabela cooed, her eyes glittering with mischief.  
“A little.” She mumbled.  
“I wonder why...” She turned to Varric, but instead of saying anything, she gave him a sly wink. Varric only rolled his eyes.

“I'm going to head home in a minute.” Merrill smiled, gathering her things.  
“Do you want me to walk you home?” Hawke offered. She wouldn't mind the fresh air right now.  
Her eyes lit up. “Would you?”  
“Of course!” She finished her drink and turned to the others. “I'll be back soon.”

The air in Kirkwall certainly wasn't _fresh_ , especially in Lowtown, but maybe it was the absence of it during the expedition that made her heart grow fonder.

“I actually- erm...” Merrill's green eyes reflected the soft light of the street.  
“Are you okay, Merrill?”  
“I've just been... I want to ask how you've been feeling. You know, about... you know, Bethany.”

The name passed Merrill's lips the same way people would talk about blood magic. Over enunciated and hushed. It was strange to have her own sister's name be so taboo. She fought back the sting of the beginnings of tears.

“I'm okay.” She mumbled.  
“Has there been any news?”  
“Nothing.” She breathed, a sudden lump in her throat. “Varric's got his ear to the ground though.”  
“I hope we hear something soon. Of all of us, I thought she would be the one most likely not to end up in the circle.”  
“Yeah, it surprised me too.”

Sure, it still fucking hurt like it had just happened, but it wasn't so much that she had been captured or that they'd found out where she was. It was that she didn't fight back. She'd basically given up. She'd thought Father had taught her better than that. Both of them. So all those years able to pack and leave in a flash, running from Templars and the circle... had it all been for nothing?

They should have murdered the templars, burned Gamlen's shit-hole to the ground and ran. Left Kirkwall. But then where to? And Kirkwall was more of a home to her than Lothering had ever felt and now Varric... there was Varric to think about too.

Shit. There was no way she could have won.

“Oh no, I-I'm sorry if I've upset you, Hawke!” Merrill flapped. “I just thought that you maybe wanted to talk about it away from the others and I know you've got Varric but I thought maybe... I don't know, I'm rambling again.”  
“No, no.” She sighed. “It- It's good to talk about it. Everyone else is avoiding the subject and it just makes me feel worse. I can see the looks on their faces every time someone is about to accidentally mention her. I swear it's worse than it was with Carver.”  
“Is there anything I can do?”  
“Just being my friend is enough, Merrill.”  
“I can do that.” She smiled, linking an arm into Hawke's. Such an innocent gesture that should have brought her joy. Instead, it did the opposite.

Think about something else. She needed to think about something else... something else... Wait, there was something she was supposed to remember, wasn't there? Aah, shit. Why was she always worse at remembering things at this time of night? She fumbled in her backpack, hoping for a clue.

“Oh, I have your amulet, by the way.” She sniffed.  
“My amulet?”  
“You gave it to me before the Deep Roads.”

She pulled it out her pocket and placed it in Merrill's palm. Recognition flittered over her face.

“Oh, thank you! I'd almost forgotten about that!”  
“Thank you for lending it to me. Sometimes the hardest thing was just to keep moving, so it really meant a lot...” She fought against the burn in her throat, flinching her face away. “It meant a lot to know there were people on the surface waiting for us to come home.”

This was the most she'd said about the expedition since returning. Varric had done enough talking for the both of them (bless him) and that was how she preferred it.

“I'm glad it helped. I know you haven't really said much about what happened... but if you want to talk to someone o- other than Varric o-or Fenris or Anders, then I'm here.”  
“I appreciate it, Merrill.”

Before Hawke had a moment to register it, Merrill had her arms around Hawke, holding her as if she were a teddy bear, engulfed in the embrace.

“Sleep well, Hawke.”  
“You too.”

And all to quickly she disappeared behind the door. There was a tightness in her chest - so familiar that she'd barely noticed it - that only ceased when Merrill's door clicked closed, the lock turned and she heard the clunk of the barricade plank.

  
  


The walk back to the Hanged Man was the same as always, but it seemed a lot longer than it had minutes earlier. No matter what, the air around her hung heavy, thick like mud. Words followed her every step.

Said. Unsaid. Thought. Wished. Worried. Wondered. Hoped.

Sure, her brain hadn't exactly been the poster child for clarity since the expedition (hell, when had it ever been?) but this was the first chance she'd had to really notice it. Thoughts clawed at her, so strongly it tore everything else from her brain. Thank goodness she knew the way back so well or she may have not even made it.

It was stupid, really. Really stupid. But that was just her, wasn't it?

Somehow she was already through the door of the Hanged Man and halfway towards the table. Towards the others, tears still threatening to leak. No. No, no, no, that wouldn't do.

Turning on her heel, she made for the bar. Just a few moments to collect her thoughts. That was all she needed. And maybe a few shots. In fact, no. Tonight called for bottles.

“Did she get back okay?” Varric enquired as she approached and settled into her seat, his focus no longer on the cards darting between his fingers.  
“Huh?” She mumbled as she settled into the seat beside him. “Oh, Merrill. Yeah. She's fine.”

She could feel his gaze as the deck stilled in his hands. He probably already knew it. Fuck.

“Care to join in?”  
She let out a strained sigh. “No.”

That was probably the most telling thing she could have done, but concentrating on a conversation was hard enough; let alone a hand of cards.

“You know, I have a nice bottle in my room if you want to share it with me.”  
“I'm not in a sharing mood right now.”  
He nodded so slightly she almost missed it. “I see.”

The cards were handed out and Hawke slumped into an almost comforting position; her head on the arm that rested on the table, the other holding the unmarked, disgusting bottle of Maker-knows-what and her legs crossed, boots discarded under the table. If a bar fight were to break out, she'd have a disadvantage, but that wasn't a concern right now. She only had one concern; the amount of alcohol still remaining in the bottle. But of course, that didn't last long.

Once that was gone, she signalled for another, her whole body so heavy that she didn't want to move, but not moving would mean not getting any more alcohol and _that_ would be an atrocity. But she managed and brought the bottle to her lips, knowing full well a strategic spew could be on the cards.

“I'm going to head upstairs soon.” She mumbled, watching Varric's face change expression.

Maybe if the room wasn't spinning around her then she'd have an idea of what he was thinking. He looked... handsome though. Glinting. Nice. Handsome.

But wait, they were together now, weren't they? In some meaning of the word, at least. The uncertainty of what they were still clawed at her, but she barely distinguished it from the fuzzy feeling of inebriation. Nice.

“I'll come with you then.” He finally said.  
“No need.”  
“I think there _is_ a need, Hawke.”

She waved her hand and tried to find her feet, but ages of sitting idly had left them numb. Before she'd even had a chance to reach for him, his arm wound around her waist and her arm around his shoulders. Just like always.

It was comforting. Maybe even more comforting than the drunk-ness itself. Maybe. She reached for the bottle, anyhow.

“I hope you're not going to drink any more of that stuff.”

She shrugged, heaviness in her shoulders that had been there for years, but only now was she noticing it. The feeling of being an older sister, she suspected.

But she wasn't anymore, was she?

The air was wrenched from her lungs so suddenly that her legs stopped, fingers clenching into both Varric's shoulder and the bottle.

She _wasn't._ She'd lost her. She'd failed _._ Oh Maker, she'd _failed_!

“Hawke?”  
“Bethany...” She uttered, her face contorting to hide the tears from falling. Oh, she might have been pissed, but that was no excuse.  
“Let's get you upstairs.” He muttered, half dragging her forwards.

She fought a valiant battle, her emotions twisting and writhing just under the surface as Varric unlocked the door to his room. He gave her glances, but he didn't probe. He didn't even ask. Part of her was glad he knew her well – _so_ well – that he knew when to give her space. The other part... she just wanted to collapse into a snotty, tearful mess and receive all the pity Varric could muster.

That thought left her the moment the door was opened. She was back. She was home. How nice. The last thing she remembered was being helped to the bed, eyelids so heavy they could fall off and falling into an embrace of _green._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This fic isn't dead and neither am I!  
> I've just been working on my Modern AU and trying not to force myself to write when I really don't want to. Also the usual problems (my own mental breakdown has been a great backdrop for Hawke's slow descent, at least) and just general adult life and extra shifts at work.  
> Good news, though; I feel like my writing has improved recently so yaaaay! I think I'm definitely getting better at getting into a character's head and putting that onto the page, which is good because Hawke isn't exactly going to get any less depressed just because Varric is there (because it doesn't really work like that IRL).
> 
> As always, thank you so much to you (yes, you!) for reading, commenting, kudos-ing and all that. Honestly, it means so much to me.


	15. Chapter 15

And so, another night had ended in excessive alcohol consumption. With all the shit that happened between the Deep Roads, Sunshine getting taken away and being cast out by her mother, anyone would find that hard. It was just a bit uch of a habit now and tonight was probably the worst since the night they got back. But she wouldn't be going too far down that road. Even so, it left more than a little uncertainty in his stomach.

He needed something to help him settle down and his ledgers certainly weren't helping. If he lay down now, it would take hours of tossing and turning to eventually get to sleep. So he did something he didn't think he would; he reached for a familiar friend, his pipe. When he was younger he'd smoked it without thought, but then after his mother... He searched for the tobacco he'd had lying about for Maker knows how long, pressed it into his pipe, held it against the fire rune and took his first puff, determined not to savour it, but that was easier said than done.

Between running after Hawke, finding buyers for the Deep Roads loot, getting up to speed with his spy network and dealing with the damned merchant's guild, he'd barely had any time to think about his nug-humper of a Brother. To say that he'd ever come to terms with it would be a lie, but at least he didn't feel the burn of rage every time someone mentioned him. It was more of a simmer, at least.

How Hawke felt about him wasn't so clear though. She never had been one for talkingabout things, so it's not like he should have expected anything else when she did exactly the same thing a lot of nights before the expedition. But at least then she would open up after a good amount of alcohol, now it just seemed to do the opposite. Now she was so convinced nothing was wrong that she wouldn't even try to speak about it, but something was, it was _obvious._ But what could he do to help? How could he do anything other than stand by while she poured drink after drink down her throat, night after night? He had a thought, an idea that might work, but it was a gamble and not a safe one. And he wasn't one for gambling with other people's best interests. But what else could he do?

It would have to wait until the morning, but at least Hawke's gentle snores seemed a little more inviting now. With a heave, he hauled off his chair, stiff from hours of sitting and padded towards the bed where she lay sprawled out. He shrugged off his clothes, not even bothering with his bedclothes any more and shuffled in beside her. She groaned and rolled over, deep in the thralls of restless sleep and he curled an arm around her. She sighed softly and shuffled closer into him as he realised just how heavy his eyelids felt. So he gave into them, closing them slowly and drifting off into the empty darkness.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


It was over a month now since they'd got back from the expedition, but this was the first time that she didn't expect to see the a darkspawn filled tunnel or the mouldy ceiling of Gamlen's hovel when she woke up. The dark ceiling was instantly recognisable, she knew the colour of the sheets around her without even having to look, she knew where she was for once and it was... strange. She rubbed her eyes with a groan. Ugh, why did her head always have to feel so heavy in the morning?

“Is that you up?” Varric called through.  
“Yeah.” She grumbled, rolling over with a heavy groan.  
The sound of a stone chair scratching against wood scraped the insides of her ear. “I'll be out for a minute.” He called.  
“Oh, sure.”

Light footsteps and the sound of the door swinging shut behind soon followed and then silence. Of course, she shouldn't get her hopes up about what he was doing but she was really fucking hungry. It had almost become routine for her to sleep while he got up to work. How she was going to get up at a decent time for the audience with the viscount was completely beyond her.

With a choked groan, she stretched out on the bed, doing her best to loosen her wound-up joints, but to no avail. Typical. So she sat up and tried again, her neck releasing a soft pop. Ah, much better. The door opened again and familiar footsteps approached. And there he was, a blood sausage sandwich in one hand and a tankard of water.

“How are you feeling?” He sighed, sitting beside her and placing the food and drink aside.  
“Fine, yeah.”  
“How are you feeling about Leandra?”  
Oh no, he wasn't bringing this up _now_ , was he? “Much the same.”  
“You've had a bit of time away from her, do you think it's helping?”  
“I've had plenty of time away from her. I've only seen her once since leaving for the Deep Roads.” And it hurt, it really fucking _hurt._  
“Have you thought about going to see her?”  
“I've thought about it, but I don't know... I want to see her, but I don't even know if she'd want to see me. Even if she did, I don't want her to kick off about the twins.” No, she didn't need to be reminded of how much she'd failed.  
“The longer you leave it though-”  
“I know, I know.”  
“And I know maybe you don't want to see her now, but if something happened to her...”  
“Nothing's going to happen.”  
“Do you really want to take that risk?”  
“No...”  
“And I could come with you, you know.”  
“You would?”  
“Of course. I want to be here for you, Hawke. I don't want you to struggle through things alone.”  
“Varric...” She breathed, watching a softness sweep over his face as she leaned in to kiss him.

Their lips met softly for only a brief moment and when it ended she thought he'd draw back as usual, but instead he littered a collection of kisses on her cheek, a soft giggle erupting from deep within her before she could stop it.

“Now...” She smirked, trying her best to cool her face a little. “About that blood sausage sandwich...”  
A devilish grin spread over his face. “How do you know this isn't for me?”  
“Because you would have got a second one if you wanted one.”  
“Shit, you know me too well.”

He handed it over and she waisted no time in getting acquainted with her breakfast. Maybe she could get another and call that lunch. Well, only after her stomach had settled a little. Man, just a few bites and it was already threatening to mutiny? How much _did_ she drink last night? Oh, a drinking contest was involved, wasn't it? Or was that the night before? It was hard to keep track.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“It's just a talk.” He reminded her for the fifth time.  
“Just a talk.” She repeated, her mouth as dry as when she woke up that afternoon.  
“And I'll be outside in case anything happens.”  
“Yeah. Thanks.”  
“Just give her a chance. She might be more reasonable than you think.”  
“Reasonable isn't really a word she knows well.”  
“Like mother, like daughter.” He joked, but it just cut to her core.

They were already up the stairs; all that was left was to open the door. Varric gave her hand one final squeeze and she unlocked the door and let herself in. Knocking felt weird, even if she didn't really live there any more. Her mask slipped into place, her face steeled as if readying for a battle. It wasn't much different to be honest.

The room was just as it had been, a kettle and some probably questionable soup on the fire. Fuck, she should have brought more money with her. No need to eat 'mystery meat' when there was already silvers to spare.

Her Mother sat by the fire, a book in hand, but her head snapped up, despite her best efforts to stay silent, rising from her seat like a noblewoman in a pantry. The contrast of her elegance and grace against her dress and surroundings was almost absurd.  
“Marian!” She smiled.  
“None other.” She sighed, the words like grit scraping her teeth.  
“I'm so glad you've come!”  
“You make it sound as if you were hoping I'd come today.” She cast her eyes to the fire and the hospitable items simmering away. Suspicious. “ _Were_ you?”  
Her mother's gaze drifted towards the dirt floor. She never was the best a lying. “I spoke to your friend.”  
“Varric?” No reply. Instead, she turned back to tend to the fire and the stew simmering away. “I _knew_ something was up.”  
“I didn't know what to do, dear. You have your Father's stubborn streak. Carver too.” Aah yes, still speaking as if nothing had happened to them. “And I know how long you can hold onto grudges.”  
“Blaming me for everything didn't help.”  
Even with her turned towards the fire at the other end of the room, she could hear her mother's breath catch in her throat. “I _am_ sorry, dear. It's not been easy to lose two of my children and almost everything we own in such a short space of time.”  
“It's not been easy for me either, Mother.”  
“Sweet Andraste, I've failed as a mother, haven't I?”  
“No, I'm just- I'm sorry. I know I was supposed to protect us all after Father...”  
“You couldn't have stopped that ogre from getting Carver and you couldn't have stopped that Templar getting Bethany.”

Oh, it was a little early in the conversation to lie so blatantly, wasn't it? And how could she even respond to that? It went against everything she'd heard her say before, everything she'd told herself, everything her night terrors had told her.

Instead, she sat down and watched as her Mother ladeled from the pot into a bowl.

“Where's Gamlen?”  
“He said he was going to the pub, but Maker only knows what he might be doing there.” Yeah, best not to mention he was one of the Blooming Rose's regular patrons.

She accepted the the soup, tea and a chunk of fresh bread. _Fresh_ bread! Wait, _this_ wasn't mystery meat? It looked like chicken? Something poultry at least. How did she get the money-

Oh wait, probably Varric. Yeah, that was it.

“I shouldn't have been so self absorbed to blame you so quickly.” Leandra sighed sinking into the chair beside her. “Your father would never...” She let out a slow sigh, staring blankly into her soup.  
“I'm sure he'd understand, Mother.”  
“I never was the most affectionate mother was I?”   
Not to _her_. The twins were another story. “The past is the past.” Hark at her spouting shit she didn't even believe in.  
“That's true... but it can still hurt.” Her gaze flickered up, but it didn't linger. “But what held you up from getting back from the expedition? You were supposed to be back weeks earlier. I was so worried.”

Her teeth grit without her even realising. Fuck, Varric wasn't here to take the words from her mouth and tea and stew didn't exactly have the same effect as a tankard or two.

“Bartrand, he... left us to die.” She rasped.  
“He _did_?!”  
“Left us in a thaig and locked the door after him. Just for some stupid profit.”

She shrugged, trying to keep it light-hearted, but her heart just wasn't in it, not when the stench of Darkspawn was still fresh in her mind, the thought of her Mother losing yet another child too real.

“And know the circle seems like the worst thing that could happen to Bethany, but if she was down there... I don't even know if she'd have made it. We almost didn't. We were running on empty for days before we made it out. If something had happened...” Fuck, no. No tears. No crying. “A few more days and... I don't know if we would have made it.”  
“Marian... I had no idea.” Leandra held out her arms and she hesitantly leaned into them.

A strong scent of roses enveloped her as her mother's arms wrapped around her. It had been far too long since they'd hugged, so much so that it felt like she was little again, as if time hadn't moved on and ripped the family apart, one by one.Now there was just the two of them left, the last two Hawkes clinging together in hopes that the other wouldn't be torn from them just like the others. And she knew she'd do _anything_ to keep her mother safe. She shouldn't say too much, she didn't want to worry Mother, but the words came tumbling out before she could stop them.

“...and I got very ill down there.” She pushed the words out, her voice nothing but a croak. “I came close to death from a fever.”  
“You did? What was wrong?”  
She shrugged. “I don't know, not even our healer knew. But it was...” The nightare flashed in her mind, the rotted corpse of her own sister looming over her. “...horrible. For a long time, I didn't think I was going to make it. I-I was close to telling the others to leave me behind.” She drew back, wiping hot tears from her eyes. “But it worked out in the end, though. We stumbled across a thaig full of valuables and gold. I have more than enough money to get the manor back.”  
Her Mother's mouth hung open. “But you almost _died_.”  
“I'm alive now, though. And I've managed to finally get an audience with the Viscount. It's a few weeks away, but it's a step in the right direction. We just have to keep moving forward.”  
“And once you have the manor will you stop all this fighting?”  
“I'm sorry, but I can't promise that. It's the only thing I can do to make sure you're safe.”  
“But _you're_ not safe.”  
“I'll keep myself as safe as possible, but I just can't guarantee to keep myself out of danger. That's one thing that I just cannot promise.”

She took a bite of the bread, drenched in the chicken soup. There really was nothing like Mother's cooking.

“So what have you been doing with your time then since returning to the city?”  
“Oh, I've been taking some jobs and helping out some friends with things.”  
“You're always busy...” She sighed, tending to the fire and putting the kettle on to boil again.  
“How have you been?”  
“I admit, I've been lonely.” She sighed, “I guess I didn't appreciate the company I had until it was gone.” She paused, staring blankly at the fire. “Could you stay here tonight? I've really missed having you over And knowing Gamlen, I don't think he'll be back until tomorrow.”  
“Of course. I've missed you too.”

So with the soup finished, she set the bowl aside and listened to the soft ticking of the clock in the corner. She remembered buying it, a gift for her Mother on her birthday, her first one in Kirkwall. There hadn't exactly been time to grab the old clock from Lothering. It was soothing to hear it again.

“Have you had any news from Bethany?”  
“No. I've been praying every night for news... but none so far. It's getting hard to keep up hope.”  
“I have Varric keeping his ear to the ground. He knows lots of people so I'm sure he'll get some information soon. The fact we haven't heard anything yet is a good sign, we would have heard if something had... happened.”  
“I can't believe it's just us now.” Leandra sighed, so softly it was almost missed. “It feels like our family, the people I love have been picked off one by one and I...” A sob clogged her throat. “I could never have forgiven myself if I'd lost you too.” Leandra did her best to stay composed, but it was a losing battle.  
“Shall we pray together, Mother?”  
Her face lit up into a bittersweet smile, sprinkled with tears. “Yes,” She croaked. “I'd like that.”

And so they sat, matches in hand, two candles before them. One for Father and one for Carver. No candle for Bethany though, this wasn't the time for tempting fate.

“ _The Light shall lead her safely_  
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword”

She'd forgotten how well she'd remembered that, especially when they would chant it almost every night after Father and Carver passed. The room was silent, save for the tick of the clock, the candles wavering against the darkness of the room. Oh wait, it was already dark outside?

“I'd like to think you pray often,” Leandra began, “but I know the path of the Maker doesn't appeal to you.”  
“I _do_ like to believe he's there looking out for us, but since losing Father and Carver and now Bethany... I don't want to believe that he's let this happen.”  
“As much as it hurts, I believe that there is a reason for everything. And they are at peace now, they can't feel any pain.”  
“I'd like to think so, too.”  
“I'll have to get some rest though, love. I'm so happy to have you back.”  
“I'm glad to be back.”

She settled into her bed, her head resting on the hard bunk. It was strange to go back to the wooden planks and scratchy sack after the softness of Varric's mattress. The last time she's been here, staring at this mould-infected ceiling was back before the expedition, before Bethany had been taken from them, before she and Varric had started... whatever it was they were doing. It was nice to have a break from him, at least. It was strange to sleep to high from the ground when Varric's bed was so low down.

Silence descended upon the room and Hawke let her eyes fall shut, for once not worried about the shadows flickering around her. As long as her Mother was with her, she knew her Mother was safe and she would do anything she could to keep her that way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it's been a while! Sorry this chapter took so long to get finished, I wanted it to feel organic but I found it a lot easier said than done. Thankfully though, I have the next 15-ish chapters written, they just need editing (although i think I'm going to slightly change the direction from what I'd planned before. Nothing major though.
> 
> Once again, thank you all sosososososoo much for all your kudoses, comments and views. I'm still in shock that it's reached over 1,000 views like what the heck!?! The fact that so many people think my writing is worth reading actually astounds me.
> 
> No clue when the next chapter will be out but I'll try not to make it such a big gap. Have a good rest of your August <3


	16. Chapter 16

“And so _I_ said, Why don't I do a little dance? Anders' spicy shimmy!” Anders shimmied his shoulders in time to a jaunty tune and the ridiculous sight caused a laugh to bubble up from Hawke.  
“So what did Sigrun say to that?” She asked once the laughter had died down.  
“She probably asked me never to do that again. I can't really remember now though, it was a long time ago now. Another life.”

His eyes grew distant, clouding over as he let out a heavy sigh. She'd only come down here looking for the recipe for an elixir she'd been needing, but it had been a quiet day at the clinic so she'd stayed a while, riffling through his books on healing magic and telling tales of their pasts in their shared homeland of Fereldan. It was funny to think it, but life was so much simpler back then. They'd had precious little but at least they'd had each other, the five of them huddled together in that little shack in Lothering. Nothing more than a few silvers to their name, but they didn't need any more than that.

But even if she went back, the Fereldan they'd left behind wasn't the same one that she'd find now. It was now a land battered and beaten by the blight and judging by the worn out look on Anders' face, he knew it too.

“But anyway,” He sighed. “how has Bethany been getting on?”  
“I got a letter from her a few days ago actually. She's doing well, passed her harrowing, so at least I don't have to worry about that.”  
“That's good. So what's your plan?”  
“My plan?”  
“For getting her out.” He spoke so matter-of-factly it almost hurt. She hadn't even let her mind explore that chance, it just wasn't possible.  
“I don't want to put her under any more risk than she's already under.”  
“So you're just giving up?”  
“ _Giving_ up?” She scoffed. It's not like she hadn't obsessively grasped at every other option, hoping, _praying_ for a way to keep her free and safe, but it was always one or the other. “Don't you think that her safety is the most important thing right now?”  
“She's not safe in the circle, Hawke.”  
She scoffed and reached for her hip flask, but remembered she'd already ran out hours ago. Great. She busied her hands by clenching her fists instead. “She'll be okay. She knows to keep her head down and do what she's told.”  
“A lot of bad things that happen in the circle, there's a lot of twisted Templars out there that will take advantage of a mage not willing to get in trouble.”  
“Do you think I don't know that!?” She forced a deep breath before she could completely lose her patience. “She's going to be okay and that's the best I can do for now. I've been bribing the right people to make sure of it.”  
“That can't work forever.”  
“Well what _else_ do you expect me to do short of breaking her out of there? For now, she's safe and that's all I can ask for.”  
“You could keep her safe more easily if mages were free to-”  
“Is _that_ what this is about? Andraste's tits, I _really_ don't have the energy for a philosophical debate right now.”  
“But just think-”  
“ _Anders_.”  
He clamped his mouth together and slumped into himself. “Sorry, sorry. I know I maybe get a bit too carried away sometimes.”  
“You don't say.” She grumbled.

“Are you the healer?” A voice boomed.  
“Yes, do you need help?”  
“My wife is in labour!” A very worried man carried a woman into the clinic and set her down on a bed. Anders wasted no time in assessing the situation. Hawke on the other hand just stood at the sidelines like a useless lump.  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
“No, no, I'll be fine.” He rolled up the sleeves on his tunic, reached for his apron and adjusted his hair tie.  
“I'll let you get on with it then. Oh and thank you for the company, it's been nice.”  
“It was nice to have someone in the clinic I didn't have to treat. Get home safe, it's getting dark out.”  
“Will do.”

And with that, she took her leave. He was a nice guy and she had a lot of respect for what he did, but Maker's breath, did he _really_ need to drone on and on about the plights of the mages?

Winter was drawing in quickly this year and while they weren't as bitter as what they'd faced in Ferelden, the wind from the Waking Sea brought a teeth chattering chill. The people of Darktown sat huddled together, shielded from the worst of the wind, but not the cold or the hunger. Every time she braved this part of the city there seemed to be less, but whether that was due to them making it to bigger and better places, being thrown out of the city or going to the side of the Maker, she just didn't know. Quite frankly, she didn't even want to know.

Before the Deep Roads she could almost say she was desensitised to seeing the struggle of her fellow countrymen, especially in the knowledge that she had only a little more than they did, but now? Why did _she_ deserve to have hundreds of sovereigns to her name while others had none? Why did _she_ deserve to have three meals a day while others starved? Not that she wasn't grateful for the security for her family, or what remained of it, that money brought, but-

“E-excuse me, M-messerre!”

Snapped from her thoughts, she noticed a small girl with wide, brown eyes tugging at her warm overcoat with frozen hands. She didn't even want to think about who she reminded her of.

“P-p-please Messerre, c-could I please have a b-b-bit for some stew? I haven't eaten t-t-today.” She recognised her as Fereldan in a moment, her breath clouding and teeth chattering against the cold. Poor thing, she didn't even have good enough clothes for this weather.  
She knelt down to her. “What's your name?”  
“D-Dara, M-m-messerre.”  
“Do you have a family, Dara?”  
“I have my mummy.” She looked behind her at a woman cowering by a wall with only a thin blanket and an even thinner face. “Daddy didn't come home from fighting the monsters.”  
She didn't even want to know which monsters she was talking about. There was far too many in this world; how could a child even begin to understand the horrors of this world, let a lone live them. “Here.” She took off her overcoat and put it over her, hanging off her frail shoulders, trailing on the ground behind her, slipping in a good few silvers into the pocket for good measure.  
“Thank you Messerre!” She cried, her face so bright it could light up a million candles. She ran off in an instant, crying for her Mum, desperate to tell her the good luck she'd found.

At least she could use her new found riches for good. Maybe she couldn't save them all, but if she did what she could, at least she could make a difference, right? Or at least that's what she told herself, walking past rows of children just like Dara, some even more frail, even colder, even closer to death than she was, some far too frail to even ask for a copper. And as usual, she'd only brought a few silvers out with her, all of which she'd given to Dara.

Maker, she needed a drink. Luckily, the establishment she so proudly called her home was never short of alcohol to numb her feelings. The feeling in the tavern was warm that evening, a travelling bard set up in the corner, wailing out songs from his travels.

“Marian!” Oh great, what had she done now? A woman was pushing through the crowds before she could even reach the bar. Wait, that was-  
“Mother? What's happened?”  
“I came to remind you about your etiquette classes tomorrow afternoon. I don't want you forgetting like you did last week.”  
Ah yes, how conveniently she'd forgotten about that. “Don't worry Mother, I won't.”  
“That's great to hear, love. I'll let you get back to your evening and to taking a bath.”  
A bath? She was good for another few days at least! Anyway, there was no chance she had the energy for one tonight. “I'm not taking a bath.”  
“Fine, I can't force you. _Please_ make sure you've bathed before etiquette class, at least.” She sighed, exasperation a weary line on her forehead.

And with that, she turned and left, never wanting to spend any longer then necessary in this establishment for fear of tarnishing her reputation as a noble woman of taste and refinement, none of which the Hanged Man eluded to. Mother wasn't going to expect her to do the same once they had the manor back was she? Perish the thought.

Even with things somewhat mended between her and her mother, her nights were still spent with her best friend and bed fellow. The less they spoke about the arrangement the more uncertain she felt about the whole thing, but Bianca hadn't been mentioned in a long time, thank the Maker. The less she knew or thought about her the better. But what _were_ they? More than friends, that much was obvious, but it had been months since they'd returned from the Deep Roads and they'd still done little else than their morning kisses. Either Varric was an extremely patient guy or he wasn't really interested in her like that any more. She swallowed down the fear of the latter with a good few chugs of ale, not even needing to flag down Corff before a tankard was placed before her. Aah, much better. She finished it off and signalled for two more to take up with her, bringing them up the stairs and kicking a boot into his door. He jumped a full foot into the air, a rather impressive feat for a dwarf.

“Maferath's ass, you really need to stop doing that.” He didn't even bother looking at her as she plonked herself on his table.  
“You know me, I always like to make an entrance.” She slid his mug of ale over, but he didn't touch it. “Not drinking tonight?”  
“I've hit some inspiration.” He mumbled, quill scrabbling a mile a minute. “I just need to get it down before I forget it.”  
“Sure. Don't leave your drink too long or you may just find it drunk.”  
“I'm not exactly going to mourn the loss of that swill.”  
“It all tastes the same in your stomach anyway.” She kicked off her shoes and picked up the book that just happened to be parked near her butt. “Is this your latest recommendation?”  
“I figured with the fact you've been working yourself half to death you could maybe get into reading again. You know, to keep yourself sane.”  
“I have enough hobbies, Varric.”  
“Like what?”  
“Drinking. Stabbing. Lying. Bad puns.”  
He rolled his eyes as he reached for a fresh piece of parchment. “Mhm. I think some more worthwhile hobbies might do you good.”  
“More worthwhile than being a rogue and a scoundrel? Perish the thought.” She punctuated with a swig of swill, finding it empty. “What's the inspiration for tonight then?”  
“I overheard a conversation in the market today, one I wasn't exactly supposed to hear.”  
“Aah.” She took the opportunity to swap her empty mug for his full one while he looked over his papers. “I think I may head to bed soon. I'm pretty tired.”  
“Want me to join you?”  
“No, no. You keep on with your writing, don't let me distract you.”  
“I've been working on this for hours, I wouldn't mind a distraction.”  
She didn't realise how heavy her heart was pounding against her chest until the room fell into expectant silence. “I'm pretty exhausted, I think maybe a another night.”  
“Fair enough.” And with that he went back to his scribbling.

Coward. But that was exactly what she was, wasn't she? She couldn't exactly complain about his lack of interest when she wasn't exactly encouraging him, but she didn't exactly want to find out if things would be different with him or if she was just a broken failure of a lover. It's not like they were going to last long enough for her to even find out. Life had that funny way of getting rid of people she cared too much about, didn't it?

But thoughts like this weren't exactly going to help her sleep so she did her best to empty her mind and focus on the gentle scribbling of Varric's quill and the soft mutters as he tried to find the right words for the job.

  
  


When the green enveloped her, it was dark like a moonlit night, but in her hand she grasped a candle. The pathways sped past as she ran through them, feet squelching with every step. She was in the sewers? And why was she even running? No answers came to mind so she stopped and looked around. Oh, but she wasn't in the sewers. She didn't know where in the void she was, but this definitely wasn't the sewers, it was much too bright. There were rows and rows of children, all freezing and starving just like Dara, each one closer to death than the last and yet she had nothing to help them with, only the knives on her back. So she walked past them, doing her best to ignore their wails for help, for warmth, for food.

Somehow she stumbled into a ballroom full of glittering, swishing dresses. But as she made her way through the hall, people pushed into her, ignoring her as they danced impossibly intricate dances, perfectly elegant in every movement as she lumbered over the dance floor. A shock of black hair caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks. That was what- _who_ she was looking for, wasn't it? Why would she be here of all places? But her robes, her staff, even the way she stood arms folded with her back to her. It _had_ to be!

“Bethany!” She cried, tapping her on the shoulder.  
“Hello sister.” She replied, still turned away. Something about the quiet tone of her voice sent a shiver down her spine.  
“Beth?”  
“Would you like to dance, sister?”  
Time seemed to stand still, swirling dresses freezing in mid air like an ice spell as Bethany turned around. And there it was; the all too familiar mark on her forehead. No. NO.

“NO!”

She jolted awake, laboured breaths catching in her chest. It was a dream, a dream. She closed her eyes and let her head fall into her hands. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Her eyes stung with the beginnings of tears, but she wouldn't let them free. She was a self-made expert at repressing emotions and she wasn't going to lose her touch now. Varric lay beside her, a rumbling snore tearing its way out of him, still deep in the vice of dreamless sleep, unaware of her turmoil or of how lucky he was. She was almost tempted to wake him, but that would mean admitting the night terrors had come back, not just to him, but to herself too.

Well, it's not like she needed sleep or anything. So instead, she slid out of bed and reached for her hip flask, thankfully refilled earlier with the strongest shit the Hanged Man had to offer. A chair was quietly dragged towards the banked fire and she collapsed into it, watching the quiet embers as she emptied the flask into her mouth. It didn't help though, the embers a deep red like the mark of the tranquil, the same as the one on her sister's pretty face, her eyes blank, voice measured and slow... She shuddered and drank until there was none left and sunk deeper into the chair, face in her knees.

Maker, she wanted a hug, but that would mean waking Varric who – by the sounds of it – was dead to the world. And anyway, how in the void could she expect him to understand how she felt? She'd already heard the stories he'd started spinning about their time in the deep roads, painting her a hero, a saviour, the reason they made it out, but that wasn't her. She wasn't a hero, she was just... Marian. Maybe she was strong on the outside, but on the inside she was nothing but a crumbled mess of her former self. And if Varric was going to stay with her for any length of time, he couldn't see that.

A lazy arm reached for the book he had left for her on the table, picking it up and attempting to read it, but the words were swimming on the page. Even the room was beginning to spin around her. Maker, she wasn't _that_ drunk! Maybe it was time to get herself back to bed though. The fire was long gone, as was her drink and the only company left was snoring away in bed. So she crawled back over, under the covers, hoping an endless slumber would come before she could be sick.

  
  


  
  


Varric awoke that morning with an elbow to the face. Sure, Hawke had never been the most restful sleeper, but this was beyond a joke. Ah well, there was no point in trying to get back to sleep now so he sat up, rubbed his face and attempted to stretch out the crick in his neck from being hunched over a table for half of the night. He wouldn't have minded the distraction of going to bed early, but if she wasn't ready then she wasn't ready. He wasn't going to push her into anything she didn't want to.

As if she knew he was thinking about him, she rolled onto her front, sprawling over most of the bed, her foot falling off the edge. Maybe it was time for a new bed. Strange, that chair wasn't beside the fire before, she must have been up in the night. An empty hip flask lay beside the chair, but he chose to ignore it. Her night terrors weren't back, were they? Andraste's tits, she had enough to worry about as it was.

It wasn't until after noon that Hawke finally emerged from the bed and by that time he'd already had a wander through the Lowtown markets for a bite to eat, edited a chapter and sifted through some of the more interesting correspondence he'd received. That was what he was doing, sitting at his desk as she stomped towards him, running a hand through her mess of raven hair, bloodshot eyes of lyrium blue glaring at him.

“Good afternoon.”  
“I feel dead.” She croaked. “And now I have to have a bath. I stink like something awful and I have etiquette classes with Mother today. How fun. I get to learn how to be a good little noble.”  
“You didn't sleep well again.”  
Her laugh had no mirth in it. “Oh, so you've noticed.”  
“Are the night terrors back?”  
No reply.  
“As I said before, you can wake me at any time if you need me, Hawke.”  
“Oh, hark at you being Messerre perfect.”  
“I'm just trying to help.”

She threw on a tunic and some trousers and walked straight past him, assumedly to get water for the bath. She took a little longer than he'd expected, but at least she didn't kick his door off it's hinges when she returned. Buckets of fresh (enough) water in tow, she dragged his tub beside the fire, emptied the water in and let the heat runes do their job. Unceremoniously, she threw her clothes to the floor to expose her naked form. He couldn't help but watch as she stepped into the tub, the warm light of the fire illuminating her pale skin until it disappeared under the water.

But he had a job to do so he pulled his eyes away from Hawke and back to the parchment. The first one was a mess, so he reached for another.

“You know,” She groaned. “I'm starting to get sick of Anders' rants about mage freedom.”  
“Starting to?”  
“Actually, no. I'm already sick of it. And I'm sick of him digging up shit to try and get us to support him.”  
“What did he say this time?”  
She shook her head and scoffed. “Shit about Bethany, mostly. Would you mind passing over that wine?”  
“I don't think you should be drinking this early, Hawke.”  
“You do know I got given it for helping someone do... something.” She blinked at him expectantly, but once she realised he wasn't budging she let out a sigh that could shatter windowpanes. “ _Fine_. I guess if I have to do everything myself.”  
She rose from the bath with a magnificent splash, taking half the water with her, trailing it across the room and swiping the bottle from its place on the shelf.  
“I thought you were going to classes with Leandra, you don't want to be drinking for that, do you?”  
The crack of the bottle opening was his answer. “If it worries you so much, I'll have some bread or something before I go.”  
“That's not the point, Hawke.”  
“Then what is?”  
A smirk toyed at her lips as she lowered herself into the tub, as if to will him to go on, to say it, admit it... But he couldn't, not yet at least.  
“Never mind. All I'm going to say is; I can't help you if you won't speak to me.”  
“Maybe I don't want help.”  
“Do you maybe want to stay at your Mothers tonight? Have some space?”  
“Oh, of _course_ you'd want rid of me.”  
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, doing his best to sigh out his frustration. “I _will_ if you're going to keep on like this. Either stop looking for a fight or don't come back.” He stood up, close to yanking the bottle from her hands, but he decided against it. “I'm going downstairs. I've obviously bothered you enough.”

And with that, he slammed the door behind him. Maybe in hindsight he lost his cool a little more than he wanted to, but screw it. If she was going to treat him like that, why shouldn't he push back? Maybe she'd had a shitty night's sleep, but that didn't mean she had to take it out on him.

So he sat by the bar and made casual conversation with Edwina, but it wasn't long until someone offered him a drink to retell the stories he had of the Deep Roads. So many people were fascinated by it, this place they'd only ever heard of in books and he didn't mind sharing a heavily embellished tale or two. In fact, he needed to get it out, just needed to get it straight in his head. Sure, they'd been out of there for a while now, but that didn't mean it always felt like it, as if there was some danger lurking around the corner, jumping at the slightest scare. And Maker's balls did it sting to have Bartrand turn on him and leave him to die. Even if he'd done his best to ignore it. At least the whole thing had brought him and Hawke closer together, even if some stupid arguments were threatening to tear them apart.

Speaking of, it wasn't long before she appeared down the stairs, storming straight past him as if he didn't exist. No, he didn't like that one bit, but at least he had his room back. He knew drama had a way of following Hawke wherever she went, he should have expected it really, but this wasn't right. This wasn't even their first argument. Something had to change, something had to give, but he'd be damned if he knew what.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramaaaaaaa~  
> I am so sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out. For a while I lost my vision for the story and i couldn't relate to this Hawke any more, but a lot of the same feelings I had last year while writing this fic have come back so I can remember where my inspiration came from. I really wanted to get a chapter out to mark a year since i first posted this fic, but life has a funny way of getting in the way.  
> I just want to say thank you so much to everyone for your support. It's so wonderful to know that there's people out there that actually like my writing, even if I don't.
> 
> Edit - I know I said the next chapter would be up int he next few weeks? Yeah, ignore that. Inspiration for this piece is extremely fickle, but I'm not giving up on it. Just don't expect an update too soon, I'm so sorry <3


End file.
